


Tarnished Legacy

by WhatInTheHeckidyHeck



Series: The Chronicles Of Blood [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Affairs, Aftermath of Torture, Blood Mages, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Original Character Death(s), Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Pregnancy, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatInTheHeckidyHeck/pseuds/WhatInTheHeckidyHeck
Summary: A child created in love, a love destroyed in hatred. Aurora Cousland has an accusation that makes the very man she would die for throw her out of his life like rotting garbage but yet, she holds their greatest journey yet within. Can she convince the new King otherwise?





	1. Chapter 1

The pregnancy was a surprise, an unplanned speculation she never thought she would experience. She realized on the seventh day of her illness, curled over the waste basket in the early of the morn when only the softest touch of sunlight was beginning to appear. All the signs had come together, and she had never felt so stupid in all of her life. Aurora Cousland held her hands over her stomach, trying to make contact with the small being that grew within the depths of her womb. 

It was a shocked joy, a bittersweet sadness that she felt to in the deep aches of her chest. Alistair hated her, what else what she expect of him but to hate their child as well? He would never forgive her for an act she had no choice in, no matter how hard she begged him of it. Memories of that night still pricked at her heart, still threatened to bring her down. 

She had never felt so alone, so blockaded from the world as she did now. It was partially her own fault though, her own sins coming back to harm her. Leliana had tried to write to her, tried to visit and be there for her but yet she pushed her away. Zev had tried to make her laugh, but she would just look at him with the same hallow glare day after day. Finally they had given up, leaving on their own path. Wynne was busy with the tower, there was so much to be done there she wouldn't dare bother her. Fergus wouldn't be back in Ferelden for months. 

Interrupting her thoughts, Dream barked from his place on the edge of her bed. His short stubby tail, something didn't really fit in with the rest of his broad body, wagged in a steady beat and his tongue hung from his mouth. Aurora smiled and kissed his head, scratching behind his ears; she would always have her furred warrior by her side. 

~  
After her relationship with Alistair had ended and she fled Denerim, she had steadied herself with the finding a place to call home, a place that would keep her in the security of being sanctioned off from the rest of the community. After three weeks of traveling she came across a small village, so small it even had no name placed upon it yet. She later found it it was a new settlement, made by those who had lost everything in the Blight. 

Ten miles away there was a forest, one that eventually melted away into uncharted territory. Upon further exploration there was a small wooden cabin, one that had not been inhabited for what seemed several decades. Inside there was nothing but cobwebs and forgotten furniture that would be more useful as firewood. 

So then the refurbishing started, first the cleaning and the fixing of the roof and any cracks that lingered in the walls. It had three separate rooms within it, a room that was found at the entrance door then two others that could be used as bedrooms. She purchased things she could find within the village, then made others she could not. First she had begun on the bedroom that she would use as her own, longing so much for a warm bed to sleep in with a real mattress beneath her constant aching body. This had been two months before she had found out of her pregnancy, when her new found exhaustion was a mystery to herself. 

Now she found herself stuck with what to do with her half finished home, not sure how much of the rigorous work she should continue. Her own room had been completed, with a mattress made of straw with a cover of soft feathers for cushioning. She was still working on her quilts, sewing together fabrics she had purchased in an attempt to make a thick blanket, although it had been nearly two years since her last needlework session back home in Highever. 

She would have to come up with a nursery, a safe place for the babe to sleep where it wouldn't be cold in the winter months. Maybe he or she would simply sleep with her, continuously in the safety of its Mother's arms. When the time came for it to enter the world, she was have to seek out other women from the village, or write for a healer even. Her mind was overwhelmed, the unexpected creature nestled within her both a blessing and a curse.

Maker though, she wanted this child more than anything in the world.

..  
Alistair sat in an overly plush chair covered in so much velvet he felt like he was lounging on a woman's gown. He had gained a new nightly ritual, one nearly as great and relaxing as washing ones face or brushing their teeth; night time binge drinking. During the day he was the King Ferelden needed, the King who had never ever under any circumstances what so ever in the name of the Maker and the holy bride Andraste herself within any situation, wanted to be King. 

Yet, here the poor bastard was with a crown upon his head and a bed as empty as an alcoholic beverage that had been found by Oghren. It still hurt to lay down upon the most comfortable bed he had ever experienced, yet to hold no milk skinned and silk soft woman in his arms. Thoughts of her burned, they created a color of red his head so deep that it may as well be his very own tainted blood flooding into his eye sockets. 

She had left in the middle of the night to another man's bed, the man they both had sworn vengeance against; Loghain. His beloved had been skin to skin with the murderer, a man who was deeply embedded in a friendship with the individual whom had slaughtered her very own family. 

 

He and Loghain were set to dual the very next morn, as soon as the clock struck the tenth hour of the day. One of them would lose their life, another would continue on. That night they had all slept within the palace, Loghain on a separate side to avoid and pre-fight quarreling. He had went to bed with her in his arms, and awoken with her gone and the door cracked. When it became apparent she was not to return, he had finally left the comfort of the palace bed and sought her out, asking the guards that flowed heavily through the grand architecture. Then, finally, he was told she was last seen disappearing into the Teryn's room. 

At first he had suspected her to be poisoning him, stabbing him in his sleep, something befitting of their mortal enemy. Instead he was greeted with the site of her naked body, his shirt, the one she always wore to bed, on the floor and her nude form curled up at he back of that retched bastard. She had looked so content, her full lips upturned in the briefest of smiles. 

The first wave of emotion made him feel sick to his stomach, made his heart stop beating and his whole body freeze. Following this was the blindest rage he had ever experienced, a roar exploding from his throat like an antagonized lion. He had grabbed Loghain, tearing him from the bed and slamming the broad man who nearly matched his own height into the wall.

He had smirked when he met Alistair's eyes, chuckling deeply. “After the evening I've had, I see why you keep the young Cousland around. She's rather...ravishing.” He looked over at the bed, where Aurora held a sheet to her chest with her blue eyes wide with shock and surprise. “Alistair...? What's going on?” 

“I think maybe that question should be more so directed at you.” He spat the words at her, never had he spoken that way to her in all their days on the road together, in any month that spent tackling the Blight with nothing but each other and a few stragglers they managed to pick up along the way. “How could you? How on Maker's earth could you do this?”

“Alistair, I didn't. I swear, please, you know me.” She was pleading, her voice mixing with something he couldn't quite recognize, although the fear stuck out. 

“Your skin tells another story,” He barked, looking at the trail of bite marks that ran between her breasts. “Of all the men, you chose him?” He slammed Loghain once more against the wall as guards began to march into the room, swords drawn. The site before them had been rather shocking, the last Cousland naked in the bed of the Teryn and her lover, the bastard heir of the Therin line walking in on the act.

The memory still scorched his mind, still left bleeding fingerprints and an acidic pathway down the internal lining of his chest. He had let her in, Maker, he had worked so hard just to get her to let him in. Now he held nothing of her, they had no relationship and he had not heard of her whereabouts in months. 

At the final ball, the final celebration of the defeated Blight they had made eye contact in a briefness that held similarity to shooting stars. He had worn his Father's crown and smiled a greeting at every noble who thanked him for his work as a warrior and congratulated him on his newfound king hood. She was rooted on the other side of the room, dressed in a gown of such a deep red with a bodice decorated in gold. It had fitted ever curve perfectly from her breast to her waist, then flowing out at her hips. It filled him with lust, then disgust, all in five seconds time. 

Then there was that catch of an eye, her charcoal lined eyes that were already framed in so many dark eyelashes each blink brought them to kiss her cheekbones, never had been so jealous of hairs before. He would never forget that sadness, the full lower lip that was in an instant bit down upon. With an abruptness she ended it, holding her skirts and running from the room in a rather unladylike fashion. 

It had brought a certain joy to him, seeing her squirm under his gaze with such lack comfortableness. Later he had heard she had been sick, throwing up over the balcony with charcoal crawling down her cheeks and shaking arms. Part of him felt a certain yearning for her, but he buried it in his anger and let the thought go. 

With a final sip of his over prized booze, booze befitting of a King, he placed the bottle on his desk and collapsed into his bed.


	2. An Elf With A Nice Arse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have become quiet, the building blocks of Aurora's new life seemingly falling into place. That is, however, until an old friend appears with news, and the young Cousland has some of her own to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to create a gateway for further chapters. Sometimes I get very descriptive with my writing, then it kind of flows off into something not quite as heavily detailed. It isn't that long, but I really was happy to get it out there and thank you so much for those who left kudos and reviewed. I hope I didn't disappoint, and that this late night chapter isn't as scarred with grammar errors much like its predecessor was! <3

It curved, so perfectly and so smoothly she couldn't help but softly run her fingertips over the expanding skin. The fourth month had brought an end to the sickness, the constant waves of bile and near inability to keep anything down. Now it was just a small growth, a sign of life like that of a farmer who had just planted his years first crop. Her legacy was alive and flourishing and she would do anything to keep that small being safe and nourished, while she carried it and once it opened its eyes to the endless skies of Ferelden. 

Aurora found a happiness, a newly discovered thing which had deserted her for a time that was neither in quaintness nor in an eternity. It was a feeling similar to the first time Alistair had kissed her, his calloused hand tilting her chin up and his eyes so serene that in that very moment all was forgotten. Ever pain drenched memory simply evaporated and rose freely, undignified and gravity deafeningly into the heavens and far away from the chambers of her heart. 

Sadness still dripped through, coated in loneliness and penetrating so deeply that for a moment she felt lost with herself. Often, her imagination escaped to a place in which her and Alistair had never taken different pathways. Her creativity painted an ideology in which that night, the night all had been lost between the two of them, had never occurred. She had slept in her lovers arms, cradled in his safety, and when they awoke he struck down the man that had harmed both of their souls so deeply. The reality was though that it was not like this at all and she could not remold the clay of life, for it had long since dried into permanency. In this she wept, wept for her child who would know no Father, not like she had in the safety of her home with late night stories in front of fire places and secret laughs in quiet libraries. 

Time did not stop for the feelings of one woman though, and she was forced to live her life in the state that the Maker had intended. In the mornings she washed her face in a basin that sat in the kitchen, then rubbed elfroot oil into her expanding belly. Being an expert in poisons, she was also equipped with the knowledge of healing and started scavenging the surrounding forests for roots and creating her own little garden along the way. After ensuring what she took would not harm her unborn child, she would make tea with what ever plants she had harvested and would drink the mug gone. 

Sitting within the comfort of her newly made and cushioned rocking chair she would read books and write in her journal, all the while scratching Dream's head. They would go on walks after lunch, exploring the depths of the vast vegetation much like they had done when she was barely thirteen and her mabari hound still in the process of being house broken. 

It was at a point that these daily things had formed into a ritual, a habit in which was repeated over and over. By the third week, the pair was nestled into their favorite spot of the forest; beneath a large tree that stretched its branched to the heavens and held a crook in the middle just big enough for Aurora to sit within. They would watch the fast moving river, the occasional bird soaring down and carrying off with a silver bellied fish. This day was spiced with something different though, something that would break their heavily broken in schedules. 

“You always did remind me of a painting," a voice stirred her thoughts then promptly dumped then on the ground. Aurora immediately rose, taking on the position of a rogue, a placement that came as naturally as breathing, a dagger already in her hand. Then, suddenly and all at once, everything in her softened to the point of near melting. “Zev”, she dropped the metallic sharpened object of doom and ran to him, immediately hiding her head in his chest. 

“I have missed you too, Rora,” He wrapped his tanned and muscled arms around her, planting a kiss upon her autumn toned locks. Dream barked happily, his tongue waving around in a fashion that beheld similarity to a drunk sailor. 

“I didn't think I would ever see you again!”, She looked up at him, blue eyes wide and expansive. He took a minute to admire her facial features, the external and internal beauty that truly was Aurora Cousland.

“Please, you do not think you can rid yourself of an assassin so simply? Tsk tsk, my dear,” He smiled and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, “While I did of course have my own visit planned for you, I was sent by your brother." 

Her face lit up, full lips moving into a wide smile, “He is back, then? My brother has returned from his voyage on the sea?”

“Yes, and he wishes dearly that his kid sister would return to Highever quickly. He is,” Zevran stopped for a moment, glancing away as if to rethink his words,”Worried about you, Rora. We all are, after with what happened between you and Alistair.”

Looking down, the young woman rubbed her fingers over wrists and frowned, “I should not have pushed you all away. There was just such a void within me, I don't even know how to ask for forgiveness.”

“You don't have to. Sometimes you have to deal with pain on your own, at least for a bit.” He smiled, “Come on, I already have a horse ready. We can ride off to Highever, it is not that far. It'll be just like the good old days, just less bloody and no death constantly snapping at our heels."

She smiled at this, but then remembered that she was carrying a very tiny babe within her that would probably not appreciate the constant up and down gambling that came with directly riding a horse. “I don't believe that would be in the best interest of my current state.” The way she said it was hushed and she refused to meet his eyes when the words left her mouth, already the acquaintance of a blush on her cheeks.

“Your...current state?” The elf's face was slightly crinkled, trying to figure what in the holy Maker the woman meant. 

“It seems one of my final encounters with our dear friend Alistair left me.....carrying his child.” Months had been born into the lapses of time since she had last spoken his name out loud. It was like the world suddenly felt foreign on her lips, different and somehow twisted and wrong. How had the most beautiful idiom become the hardest to speak?

Zevran's eyes scanned her body, stopping on the slightly increased abdomen. “That bastard.”

“He doesn't know, Zev. It is better hat he does not. I do not want our child facing rejection. No babe should have to face a Father who does not believe them to be their own.”

The tattooed elf shook his head, letting out a low whistle. “My dear, you are sounding more and more like an Antivian royal everyday.” The response he received was a smack to the gut, to which he simply grinned in attempt to use his handsome features to melt the woman he had not been able to crack the chastity belt lock of since day one. 

“You're an ass.” She smiled though, one of the few genuine she had experienced in what seemed like ages. 

“But a nice ass, no?” He smiled and kissed her knuckles, then giving some deserved attention to her mabari. “I suppose we will have to find you a less bumpy way to travel, then. Like a cushioned chariot of gold.”

“All the cushions you can find.”


	3. Wooden Decapitation

Alistair picked his way through letters, closed in red wax seals and made of paper so expensive he was certain he could sell it on the black market and make a small fortune. It seemed almost every noble enough bearing family who had a daughter fourteen and up was trying to shove them his way. He was very much so aware of his necessity for a Queen, an more importantly and unofficially, a royal heir maker. The Therin line was on its last thread and no longer had any available spindles lying about. Well, there was whatever he had planted in Moriggan's womb but he tried very much so to not think about what the half old god creature that was carrying his blood around was up to. That night had been interesting, bedding the dark haired witch in a final attempt to keep the woman he swore he hated alive. That was long after she herself had decided to bed another, so that at least made it a bit easier. Still though, he did not want her to die, no matter how much he tried to brand a title of loathing under her name deep within the layers of his mind. 

He had been itching to find out where she was, how she had managed to fall off the face of Thedas into nothingness. There was whispers, of course, there always was in this damn royal court. He knew that none of their former friends had heard from her since the final “End Of The Blight Celebration”, and that was four months ago. Her elder brother had been at sea, perhaps she had joined him there. Rubbing his temple he sighed, closing his burning eyes and trying to clear his head. Sometimes he wondered if she was telling the truth, of what he saw had truly been set up as a final sting at him from Loghain. It made no sense, however, no matter what way he tried to organize the events.

Of course there was a billion different spells out there, but the only two mages in the palace had been Wynne and Moriggan. Neither of them would have done something to that degree, no matter how much he swore the apostate bitch was evil. Aurora slept about as deeply as a hastily buried corpse, he was never met with success when he tried to not wake her up all those months ago. Then there was the way she looked, Maker that damn content smirk. Love marks had decorated her pale skin and Loghain had his own painted claw marks down his back, the same thing she had done to his own. 

He groaned, placing his hands in his face. No matter how much he swore he did not miss her, he wanted nothing more than to make love to her and feel her skin against his. After their first encounter the two had been quite frequent in their nightly conquests of each others bodies and going from that to nothing might as well have been the same as to stop eating entirely. Of course their was other women he could bed, bought whores who would make his body spent and lust drained for a bit. Considerations had plagued his head, ideas of having the Pearl send their best. Or Isabela, Maker, what a night that with her and Aurora.

It wasn't just lust though, or the way he missed her full chest and wide hips pressed tightly into him. It was the love, the way she looked into his eyes with such a joy that he felt as if he could never look away. When they made love and her mouth would be agape, the “Iloveyou” that would escape her throat and don itself in a pleasure so deep he would practically lose himself just from hearing it. 

Love still called her name in his heart, still kept its finger nails buried deep into the memories of her face. Alistair stood, body burning with so many thoughts, so many facts, that he was about to explode. Opening the wooden door that boarded him off from the rest of the palace, he walked down the hallway with what had been a stomp if he had no managed to do it so King like. 

Alistair, a once blushing clumsy virgin oaf, was undeniably meant to be King. He walked with authority, yet still kept composition when anger pulsated through his veins in unfathomable waves. Even if he no longer held a necessity like had once for training, he still kept it up just as he had before. The ability to a constant and steady supply of nourishment also was helping him, the already broad and well muscled man growing into an even healthier posterior. At six four he was already authoritative, already a hulking and fear inducing leader. He was his Father's son, just as much as his half brother Callian had been, even if he lacked a Mother who was of royal blood. Maric's genes clung so damn deeply that he may as well have asexually produced the young man, except for the blue sprayed golden eyes that is. No servant nor guard questioned him, they immediately knew they were under the lead of a Therin from the day the Warden Prince received his coronation. 

An entire floor was his quarters, so he took it upon himself to do something for himself rather than just the country he had been forced upon and built a training room. He was brought an endless supply of dummies to practice upon, most of them having reattached heads after they were often brought under decapitation. He trained with the best equipped warriors in the royal army, leaving them all sore and at the losing end after each sparing session. One he had not been so well trained, he had lost the fight that lead Duncan to recruiting him into the Grey Wardens. Times had changed though, and gossip was an everlasting flow about the new King's fighting abilities. Which of course made sense, the man had brought down a Blight.

This time it was just him, alone in the large room and it's decorations of expensive armors and pictures of the Father he never knew. “You really should have learned to keep your trousers on.” He eyed up the blonde man who stood tall in the same gold armor he himself was dressed into on special occasions. “It seems I must have inherited my ability to lose my pants from you.” He drew his sword from the rack, his favorite one for sparing sessions; a large and heavy thing that he had worked the last few months to become accustomed to. At first he had struggled under its weight, unable to swing it fully or lift it in accordance to the bodies of the wooden dummies. Now it was easy though, the object comfortable in his palm. When he struck, his arms flew fluidly through with the motion of slicing clean through the wooden neck.

It brought back memories from when Loghain's head fell and kissed the floor, the greasy black lengths of hair still attached to his scalp. Months of killing had normalized the look of death, the site of a headless body. Most kills left him feeling remorse, a sadness that he had been forced to close the curtains on a person's life. That time though all he had felt was pride, an exploding calmness. Aurora had stood far away, hidden behind their friends. The exchange between him and Loghain was supposed to be different, much more joyous than the eventual turn out the two were met with. Her fault, he though before splitting the already head lacking dummy into two. 

His fingers still gripped the sword, so tightly that the bones of his fingers screamed for him to stop. Pain was needed in this moment though, physical feeling to break the shadow of numbness that followed him around with every step and movement, every toss and turn in the midst of night. 

“Your Highness”, Teagan interrupted his slight mental break down and brought him back to earth. The young King turned, sliding the sword back into its place and fanning out his fingers. “Please stop calling me that.”

The Arl's younger brother sighed, “Alistair. We need to speak, about something I know you very much so would not like to.”

“That's a pretty long list.” He tugged his shirt off, an overly expensive garment with far too many useless straps and decorative threads, cotton shirts were much more inclined to his sense of fashion. Turning to the water basin he grabbed the sponge within, scrubbing away at the sweat that formed over his skin. 

“It's about your sister Warden.”

Alistair made a face, not liking the word sister applied to his former lover. “What about her?” He finished cleansing himself, dropping the sponge back into its place and leaning against the wall.

“I think we should send a search party out for her, someone at the very least to make sure she is okay. There is a great amount of individuals that would wish her dead for her efforts in putting you on the throne. Her brother has returned from his time on the sea and has yet to find any sign of her.” Teagan spoke with worry in his voice, for he had always held a certain fondness of the young woman. This came in partial to how close their family's had been. He himself had even considered asking her Father for her hand in marriage at one point a few years ago, seeing as the age gap between the two wasn't that far off. 

“Perhaps she doesn't want to be found.” The blonde man crossed his powerful arms over his chest, sighing softly. 

“You can not deny that you do not worry about her too, no matter what may have occurred.”

The king scoffed, “What occurred? She fucked the enemy, handed herself over to him like the most experienced harlot in The Pearl.”

“And what if she spoke of the truth, Alistair? Loghain worked with her family's murderer, who is to say he wasn't seeking some revenge against her for the sake of his deceased comrade? Or perhaps that this was something he planned from the start? We all knew there was chances of her becoming your Queen.”

“Do you really think I wanted to believe him over her? I tried, Teagan, I asked everybody who was in the palace that night. I had Wynne check her for any poultices, I questioned Loghain's guards and threatened them with imprisonment. Nothing adds up, every slab of evidence points against her.”

“We have a bloode mage in questioning.” Teagan spoke it fluently, the new information finally leaving his tongue. “We found letters corresponding between him and Loghain, letters about body possession while one's soul is in the fade.”

Everything in Alistair's body seemed to tighten, his chest suffocating every bone and organ underneath the layer of skin. “So like the corpses in Redcliff, but rather than possessing a dead body...the spirit possessed one who's soul was in the dream world.”

“Precisely.”


	4. Dearest Friend

Zevran took in the quaint little cottage, sitting on one of the two chairs that were in front of the hearth. It was a surprisingly inviting little place, much more than he had ever owned in his entire life. Aurora was bent over the hanging tea pot that had flames tickling its bottom, adding bits of lavender. Even after they finished fighting in the Blight, the woman still wore leggings rather than dresses. “How long were you planning on staying here?”

“I'm not sure”, she moved towards a cupboard, pulling a wooden plate that held a loaf of bread from lunch on it. “I didn't want to face Highever without Fergus, but I wanted a place to call my own.” 

“And....when did you find out about the pregnancy?”

“About a month ago, I had been throwing up for weeks and there was other signs. I had just been so lost within myself I didn't even realize, not to mention it isn't even supposed to be possible.”

“It is because of the taint?”

She nodded, placing a hand on her stomach. “Warden's aren't supposed to be able to conceive, especially not together.” Sadness found her features, turning her lips into a frown. “I gave up on the thought of children long ago, but yet it seems with the lost of Alistair I have gained one. Is it selfish to want both?”

“No, of course not Rora.” He stood, going to her and tilting her chin up to look at him. “You know that I have believed you about that night since the first time you told me.”

Leaning into his chest she felt a part of herself calm, the anxiety she had become so accustomed to leaving her mind for a bit. “I can't even blame him for thinking I was lying, every single thing pointed against me. My only memory of that night before being awoken was of laying next to him, as I had done every night for a year."

“You had never lied to him before though, he should have taken your words before anyone else. Especially after the proposal....” He stopped, afraid he had said too much, dug up too many memories for her to handle. 

That night had been something of amazement, the warm feeling of love that flowed so steadily between the both of them. Aurora smiled sadly, “It's okay, Zev. It's a good memory, even if it didn't turn out the way I thought.”

“The way we all thought. Come on, let's have tea, you should sit. Aren't women who are with child supposed to sit in comfortable chairs and eat sugary cakes all day?”

“Don't make me poison your tea, I'm barely showing. Once I can't get out of bed on my own, I will look into the sugary cakes.” Besides her words she still sat in her rocking chair, warming her feet by the fire. Zevran took the kettle from its place over the hearth, filling the two mugs Aurora had taken out. Once handed her own cup, she drank steadily, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet scent. 

“You wouldn't happen to have any brandy, would you?” Zev looked down at the tea, raising a questioning eyebrow. “I'm a bit afraid of your poisoning threats.”

“Wouldn't poison be better disguised in alcohol?” She raised a black brow, sipping more of her tea.

Zevran thought about this for a moment before nodding steadily, “And I call myself a crow.” He took a swig of the liquid before he continued to speak, “I think you should write to Wynne. If this pregnancy is so unnatural, you should have someone who knows what they're doing make sure everything is continuing normally.” 

“Once we reach Highever, I'll have a letter sent immediately. Are the plans still to leave in the morning?”

He nodded, “Hopefully the wagon won't be too bumpy, it was the best I could find in that village. They don't even have a brewery up, no wonder everything is going so slowly.”

“Was Antivia built in a day?”

“Well of course, they made sure alcohol was readily available. Why do you think our royal families have so many issues? They're as drunk as the peasants and just as dumb, they just have the gold for more expensive liquor.”

“Oghren would be in heaven.”

“Ah, our red headed soap allergic friend. How I miss our constant arguments. Brings a tear to my eye.”

“I was sure he was going to make you dual him a few times, especially when you implied he wanted to bed you.”

The two continued talking well after the sun disappeared, cloaked in only the light of the slowly dwindling fire. Dream had fallen asleep between the two, snoring slightly and occasionally kicking his paws in his sleep. By her fourth yawn Aurora was ready to retire to her room, but she found herself clinging to the new found socialization she hadn't experienced in months. “Zev?” She spoke shyly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“Mmmm?” He himself looked spent, eyelids closing for moments at a time before they would open. 

“Will you sleep with me tonight?” She spoke softly, folding her hands in her lap and biting her lower lip in hopefulness.

At she spoke he seemed to come out of his sleep ridden daze, looking into her eyes until finally they met his own. “Of course.” He stood slowly, then put his hand out to her and brought her to her feet. She lead him to the archway that opened up into her bedroom. The bed was in the corner, decorated in a quilt of mismatched fabrics with one pillow at the center. She had a small desk to which clothes and other fabrics were folded upon, the starting of an infants nightgown taking up an open area. 

“Do you mind if I change?” She was holding a cotton shirt over her arm and nothing more, awaiting his answer. Internally, he swallowed and said a silent prayer to the Maker. 

“Of course not.” He turned away from her, allowing her the privacy to change. The sound of clothing hitting the floor brought his mind wandering, his head threatening to turn. He had dreamt of seeing her naked a hundred times since that first day she bested him and he was awoken with the site of her standing over his aching form, hands on her curvy hips and eyes narrowed. Even then her heart had already belonged to Alistair, he could tell by the way the two had exchanged words with such closeness and in such a comfortable way.  
“It's safe now.” He would always enjoy the melodious tone of her voice, how smooth and silky an invisible force was. Turning to her he took his shirt off, folding it and laying it where the rest of her own clothing lay and leaving his shoes on the floor, right next to the bed. He put off looking at her for as long as possible, before finally catching a glimpse of her toned thighs and allowing his eyes to further investigate the scene before him. The shirt fell loosely except for when it met her hips, clinging in accommodation to cover her hour glass figure. It was going to be a long and stiff, very stiff, night. 

She was the first to get into bed, scooting over to the wall and sending the cotton shirt further up her form. When he got in next to her she immediately came forward, curled up on her side and looking up into his eyes. He couldn't help himself but to bring his thumb of her cheek, his skin being met with the silkiness of her own. How was she always so soft? Bringing his hand away he wrapped an arm around her waist, her head tucked under his chin. He had only loved one other woman before and that had ended in death, it had nearly destroyed him. This relationship would not end like this, no matter if he had to bite down his words and love her as only a friend.


	5. Expiration Date

Morning had yet to blend into light, darkness still the owner of the never ending sky. Both of Thedas's twin moons were still glowing brightly, illuminating the palace that kneeled beneath them. Alistair found sleep in short bursts and rarely longer than twenty minutes at a time, his thoughts an occupation of his mind and possessing his dreams as well. The first dream was of Aurora, her face crystal clear before him, regardless that he had not seen her in months. One of his favorite features had always been her hair, the long and thick waves that swayed down to her lower back in autumn tones of brown, red, and gold. When he woke up beside her he was always met with the site of her laying on her stomach, hair sprayed over her back and hiding her bare skin from his site. Each morning, when the both of them didn't know if they would live or die, he would kiss her head with the utter most softness and in return be met with the fluttering of her eyes and a sleepy smile. 

If she had truly been framed by Loghain, he had thrown out his best friend and the love his life without a reason. The way he had treated her in those final days together had been horrendous, his eyes constantly hard and glaring whenever he caught her in his direction. It wouldn't matter if it had just been that he was observing an area and caught site of her, he would always treat her with the same face of disgust. Countless times during their final confrontation with the archdemon he had watched her fall and had not helped her up, nor covered her while she pulled herself to her feet. One he would have been in front of her in a second, helping her in whatever way she needed, protecting her with everything he could give. 

In the night before the battle that would either be the end of Ferelden or the end of the Blight, she had visited him in his chambers. It was late, but none of their small party was sleeping very well; slumber is not an accommodation of expecting die in mere hours. He had hoped it was not her, prayed to the Maker and slowed his footsteps to the door. Of though it was, her sad eyes and a fear that seemed greater than any he had ever observed within her when they fought against impossible creatures. 

 

He could tell she had just bathed, cotton shirt clinging to her in ways that would have normally made him shiver. Instead he had just scoffed when he made eye contact with her, shaking his head and returning to his bed. 

“Alistair, please.” She had sounded so desperate, so internally cracked. It had made him happy, made him hope she felt what he felt. Now the reminiscing of the memory made him feel sick and horrid. She told him she loved him that night, apologized and when he never responded finally left. He remembered that the dim light had still hit the wedding band on her finger, he had hoped she would lose it.

“Maker, how could I be so harsh?” He spoke to himself, the silence swallowing up his voice and falling down against his ribs with a deep pressure. Anger had hardened him, it had turned him into a completely different person. He had been more inclined to distrust his fiance than believe her, he had chosen the words of their enemy of her own. If Loghain had truly planned it out as a final attempt to sway Alistair away from the throne, to make his future Queen lack the ability of virtue, he had won. Even in death he had been bested by the treacherous leech of man, he had let him be the conqueror of Ferlden still.

Moving from the bed he stripped of his trousers and under clothes, leaving to his personal bathroom to shower. The palaces new plumbing had been a gift from the King Bhelen of Orzammar for his own King hood, as he and Aurora had helped Bhelen rise over his kingdom. Turning the one knob he let the water become as hot as possible, closing his eyes at the rising steam and the pulsating water that massaged over his aching muscles. He had trained late into the night with the hopes of being taken over by sleep, but that had never happened and now he was left with a layer of exhaustion and weeping muscles. 

He bled the shower dry of heat, staying in until only cold water sprayed over his body. Getting out he dried off quickly, dressing an outfit that beheld a reddish brown color, made of leather with a belt over his hips and a golden oval shape that held the Therin crest carved into it. After the matching in color boots came the cloak, lined with fur at the top and settling on his broad shoulders. Looking in the mirror he debated on shaving or not, the usual shadow of rough hair becoming more visible. He decided against it, leaving his chambers to meet Teagan in the dining hall. 

Breakfast was always a large affair, servants constantly in and out of the massive room with enough seats to sit thirty. Teagan was coating a biscuit with jam, his eyes moving toward the dapper King. “Sleep well, your majesty?'

“Teagan I swear to the Maker above I will throw this plate right at your head,” Alistair spoke with his irritation clear but in a humorous tone still, filling his plate from the large serving plates that were put in a close proximity to his chair. After ensuring himself with a hefty supply of food, including way too much cheese for one man, he began to eat. 

“Your Father was the same way with the cheese, always piling the damn stuff on like a rodent.” Teagan shoot his head, biting into his biscuit and then sipping his tea. 

“Morning cheese is the best cheese.” The King grumbled, spooning up his eggs.

For a while the two ate in silence, awaiting conversation until both heard the cling of their silverware on their empty plates. “The mage in questioning arrived early this morning, he is in the dungeon as we speak.” Teagan concluded before draining the last bit of his beverage. 

“Well, shall we begin the interrogation then?” Alistair was eager and equally fear ridden, wishing very much so to get the answer over with on whether or not he had made the most idiotic decision of his life.

“As you wish.” Standing, the older man began walking with the King in tow, servants already filling the room to take dishes away. The dungeon was a rather long walk, the palace a massive building filled to the brim with architectural mysteries and dozens of secret rooms. One had to take the east wing and three flights of stairs to reach where the implicated prisoners were stored, locked away nearly as deeply as the old God's the Darkspawn sought out. 

Once finally in the dungeons, they walked through hallways packed with guards and cells, finally coming to one on the very end. Within was a chamber pot, a mass of hay, and the most aged human being Alistair had seen in all his life, even more so than Avernus back in Soldiers Peak. 

He was an ugly thing, with more wrinkles than cracks in shattered pottery. Every inch of his skin was highlighted with his veins but they lacked the typical blue green tone, instead they were deep red and polluting his flesh wherever one would look. They ran under his eyes, over his barely there cheekbones, glowed beneath his thin and shriveled lips. He had no hair, barely an ounce of fat on his skeletal frame. When he looked up at the King he grinned, showing rotting rows of teeth and near black gums. “So your Maric's bastard.”

“Maker's breath, did you pull this man out of a coffin?” Alistair was making a face between curious wonder and cringing disgust, ignoring the bastard comment, as if he had not heard that one before. 

“He's a blood mage, I have no doubt he is long passed his expiration date.” Event though Teagan had seen the man already once before when he arrived, he still felt a bit nauseous from the site before him.

“Where you loyal to Loghain?' Alistair brought his full stare down on the elderly man who was practically swallowed up in his shadow. He did not cower, however, and still held onto his grin. 

“I am loyal to whomever has the most to offer, your majesty.”

“Oh right, of course. Well, you see...”, sheathing his sword, he unlocked the cell door and held the tip of the blade pressed against the no longer smiling rotting man before him. “I am offering your life, so speak.”

“You wouldn't kill me without getting your answers first,” The old man wheezed, eyes staring down at he sharp tip that was brushing his skin. “Not before you find out if I was inside your whore or not, like every other man in this palace.” He struck with venom, his words being met with a kick to his ribs. He howled, knobby fingers holding his side. Alistair grabbed him by the neck of his robes, so close that the heat from his coming words could be felt on the aged face of the apostate. 

“There is a million different ways of torture my friend, ways that will not even leave an ounce of blood for you to attempt to manipulate. If you've kept yourself alive this long, I reckon you're rather afraid of death. I will let my guards take you to the brink of it again and again, and then have my healers bring you back just in time for another wave. So speak.”


	6. Don't Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's harder to write during the week because of classes, but I will try to add one every day still and I promise a chapter spam as soon as I hit Thanksgiving break. Thank you so much, all of you, even if you're just a viewer passing by.

    Grey and pale, the sky held a tone in the likeness of a dying person who was  near their final breath. Rain had successfully drenched every inch of the landscape, painting it in thick layers of mud. Travel was near impossible, the like hood of making it to the imperial highway without issue too low to attempt. A chill found its way in the air, blowing frostbitten kisses; a deadly equation for hypothermia. 

Aurora watched through the window, her view through the glass blockaded by fast falling liquid that hammered into the ground and the cottage roof. Even with the hearth alive with a roaring fire the cold nipped at her exposed skin where the quilt she had wrapped around herself did not touch. Melancholic waves smoothed against the ridges of her heart, igniting a frown to her lips. The inability to start on her way to Fergus had brought her mood down, thoughts of her brother alone in the castle and lost in the shadows of his family’s murder. Oren’s bed would be empty, no painted horses and wooden swords decorating his bedroom floor. Oriana would not whisk around in her satin skirts, talking to her husband about what they should name their next child or that she hoped to bring a daughter into their lives. Mother would not lecture them, Father would not laugh with them; HIghever was a corpse, no soul, no life. 

“Are you trying to count the raindrops again?” Zevran stood in the middle of the slight living area, clad in only his trousers. He had just finished bathing, the scent of mint still rolling off his skin. Turning, she glanced over the many tattoos that decorated his body in a way that complimented him, like every Dalish elf she had ever seen. 

“I am wishing them away with the promise of a sacrifice, one that has pointy ears.” 

“The way you talk just send chills up my spine. Chills of fear, that is.” He poured himself tea from the kettle, swearing under his breath when he managed to burn his upper lip. 

“You don’t chug hot tea, you know.” She joined him, shaking her head and taking the lid off a small jar that rested on the counter. Twirling her slender ring finger in the liquid, she looked up at him. “Where's the burn?”

“Lower lip.”

Tentatively, Aurora rubbed the oily substance over the area, the burn immediately cooling away into a light and not unpleasant tingle. Zevran found himself rubbing his lips together, the taste of elfroot lingering on his tongue. “Just like Wynne used to make.” He grinned, trying to keep his mind away from the short lived feeling of her fingers on his sensitive skin.

She laughed, a sound like soft chimes, “Remember when you asked her if she had ever used it as a “personal lubricant” and she wouldn't heal you for a week as punishment for lewd behavior?”

“The damn woman wouldn't even do it when I fell out of that tree and bruised my nether regions!”

“Zevran, you were hiding in the tree to throw soap at Oghren when he walked passed!” She laughed, cheeks flushed into a soft pink.

“The dwarf smelled like rancid butter! Besides, how could I have known I'd fall and land on a branch?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “I miss that, all of us together. Perhaps not the smelly ginger beard and the occasional brush with death but...we were quite the group.” She pulled him to the rug in front of the hearth, sitting down slowly and fanning her fingers over the fire. He sat with her, in close enough proximity that their shoulders brushed. 

“Well, perhaps we'll have to arrange that. Just without the ass, and well, Morrigan I'm assuming.”

“Do you think we can all celebrate Christmas together, at Highever castle?”

“I don't see why not. I'd like to see Oghren drunk on Christmas rum.”

She giggled, laying her head on his shoulder and sending a jolt of happiness through the elf. For a moment he imagined things differently, her as his, carrying his child and planning Christmas. He had never had a family before, not prior to her. 

“I can feel her move now, especially at night.” Aurora's voice was far off and dreamy. 

“Her?”

“Sometimes I think it's a girl, other times I think it's a boy. Today I'm feeling girl.”

He smiled, enjoying the closeness of her presence, “What does it feel like?”

“Fluttery, like someone is spinning around in my stomach.”

“So...like gas?” 

“Zevran! I swear to the Maker.”

“Okay okay okay.” He chuckled, then she grabbed his hand, placing it on her stomach firmly. For a moment there was nothing, but then he felt the slightest movement beneath her skin. “How many months are you?”

“I'm estimating five.” She smiled, snuggling back into him when he removed his hand. “So half way done.”

“You barely look it, though. I can't even tell at times.”

“Well, I have been having a sudden craving for mince pies as of lately...so perhaps I'll fatten up a bit.”

Eventually she fell asleep on him, even though the day was just nearing noon. Of course, it didn't look midday out, and he noticed her drowsiness. After calling her name several times to see if she would stir, he slid an arm around her waist and the other under her legs. Slowly standing he walked with her in his arms and off to her bedroom. “Zev?” She spoke without even her eyes opened, no where near breaking the veil of consciousness. 

“Yes, my dear?” Warmth took up all the space in his voice and for the slightest bit of a moment, he talked to her like he would if she were his. 

“Don't go.”

“I never will.”


	7. Aeden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much shorter than I would have liked it to be but I am desperately short on time, will check for grammar later. <3

Bound behind his back, the blood mage also was occupied by a Templar at each soldier and three guards standing behind the chair that seated him. Alistair didn't want to risk him escaping, ,nor have to deal with the lot of them being turned into a soupy mush for him to jump start his powers with. Regardless of the outer appearance the near becoming dirt man looked, power had a tendency to linger in the oddest of places. 

They were in the middle of the dungeons, essentially and unofficially deemed, “The Torture Room”. Alistair had not used it since he was brought into the line of secession and dust clung to many of the atrocious looking tools. While he really wasn't keen on using torture as a method, this man, thing, whatever he was, was a special exception and he would do whatever possible to get the information he feared, but yet so desperately yearned for, out of him. 

Looming over the man, he looked down upon him the hardest most facial features, a look in which he may as every well have been the Maker himself. “What is your name?” His voice bounced off the walls and the young King couldn't even begin to imagine what the screams must sound like when the room was brought into its proper use. 

Looking unimpressed, the aged fellow stuck his tongue out from the rotted cave it inhabited and licked his crinkly looking lips. “Good question,” the old thing seemed to be deep in thought, the place where his eyebrows would be blending into a mass of wrinkled concentration, “I suppose Aeden would do, that is what I remember them calling me a century or so ago.”

“And when did you begin corresponding with Loghain?'

“The very first time?' He blew air out from his mouth, “Well let's see...you're what, twenty two? Twenty three? And this was long before Maric managed to impregnate another women besides his ill stricken wife.. I don't even think the legitimate son was born at that point, or Anora even. Thirty years ago, perhaps?”

“You knew my Father?” Alistair couldn't contain his curiosity, wishing for any connection to the man he never knew. 

“No, Maric was much too proud to ever rely on the darker arts of the world. Had he known of Loghain's connections he would have disowned him faster than he did you. You're Father liked to win, but in a much more diplomatic way.” He grinned, more gum than teeth. 

“I'm not exactly sure what that is supposed to mean coming from you.”

“Not all monsters are born corrupted, boy. Sometimes the first evil acts one does are in the name of righteousness.”

“Rightttt, well, anyhow. When were your most recent connections with him?'

“Before the poor bastard got his head knocked off. Sad thing, really, he was so certain he would manage to knock you and Aurora out of the throne. I suppose he did find success in riding one of you, though. Probably would have much more liked you to marry his barren wench of a daughter, but beggars can't be choosers.” 

“So when I found Aurora in his bed, it was what, an attempt at ruining her claims to virtue?” Alistair had to bite down on his tongue to keep the anger from flowing free and freshly into his tone. 

“A Queen with question chastise is no good for a throne, especially with a kingdom that was in such a fragile place as Ferelden was at that time. Say you would have married her still, made her your Queen. Then almost a year later, you have an heir. His paternity would be questioned, so much so that he would never have a strong support from those he ruled over one he seceded you. Monarchy or no, without a population that respects you, all can be lost quite easily. I mean, what where the chances of Loghain and his daughter making it into reigning over this country? As soon as you and the last known living Cousland popped up, whispers began. The last son of the adored Maric, the last daughter of the beloved Bryce, not to mention Aurora being well loved by the people just in her own right. What chances did he stand? So he took a last action, a last hope.” 

“How did you two it, how did you converse in a such a way that you were able to do this so last minute? Loghain and I's duel was out of no where, we had no idea we would be sleeping in the same castle that day.”

“We spoke in the Fade, surely you aren't so dull as to know how that works.”

“Cut the shit. How did you get her in his bed?” He spat the words, jaw clenched and putting one hand on the chair Aeden sat in.

“You have no idea how easy it is to slip into someones head, when they sleep and the cracks are just wide enough in the Fade for you to gain entrance. I know her better than you ever did in a year, than you ever will in a lifetime,” the old man sneered before continuing, “You know, my favorite memories I could hold of while in their were those ones about this one man, what was his name....Who? No, no, no...What? Mmmm, still not right....Ah ha! Howe. Not the ones where he massacred her whole family like overly fattened hogs, oh no, the ones where he would sneak into her quarters at night and-,” Abruptly so, the man was knocked backwords and his nose relocated into a no longer very comfortable position, which happened to be thanks to Alistair's fist. 

He felt undone, like ever carefully attached rope within that kept him from boiling over the edge into oblivion had just snapped. His fists shook, the left hand containing pulsing and bleeding knuckles. He would fear Aeden would somehow be able to use his blood magic, if it were not for the fact that he completely knocked the bag of bones clean out of consiousness. 

“Alistair,” Teagan spoke softly behind, setting a hand gently on the young King's shoulder. 

“I want search parties out for her, immediately. Send them to Highever, question every soul you can find on the pathway there. I want her found.”

Teagan hesitated a moment before nodding, “Yes, of course, your Highness.”


	8. Home Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will do a better grammar check later. Suggestions and reviews are always welcome, thank you all ❤️

Although the sky still bore a dull color that could only promise more torrential rain, their trip had been postponed for three days and Aurora was incredibly eager to see her brother. Packed with the few belongings she could bring from her small home, Zevran and her, along with Dream, sat off an hour before the sun began traveling into the sky to wake the rest of the world up. 

It had been months since she had been up so early, and the young Cousland found herself in a constant sate of yawning as they loaded up the carriage Zevran had purchased from within the village. The journey would only take two days and half of a third. Also on their side was the ability to sleep in the back of the carriage, as opposed to camping in tents like they once had. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Zev spoke softly to her, though without reason as no one else was around. The darkened sky seemed to shush them both, not even the sound of birds was present to make up for their quiet mannerism. 

“I'd much rather talk to you, though”, her lips formed into a pout, visible in the dwindling hearth light. He couldn't contain a smile but still spoke against it, “And as much as I love your presence, we both know you'll be exhausted by eleven. Sleep for a few hours, then I am all yours.”

“All mine?” Her voice seemed to take on a breathless aspect, lips hinting at a soon to be coming smile and head tilted. 

For a second he considered his words before continuing, “You've known the answer to that since day one, mi amor. Now into the back of the carriage at once, before I pick you up and place you there myself.”

She rolled her eyes, but a wide grin decorated her face. Holding her hand he helped her up the few stairs. After she was comfortably settled, he tucked a final blanket around her form and kissed her forehead softly. “Sleep well, I will do my best to ensure the our journey is as least bumpy as possible,” With a final bow, he exited and allowed Dream to bound in and at his mistress's side. Aurora snuggled down into the heap of blankets, wounding one arm around her beloved hound and chewing her lower lip as she often did. Utter confusion was making its way into her mind and heart, spinning the feelings there and creating nothing but a complete and out of control mess. Alistair would always be her first love, the Father of her child, even now she knew that she was in love with him.

Would she always allow herself to be in sorrow at the loss of him, though? There had to be a path that lead to happiness, somewhere close by and eagerly waiting for her footsteps to glide upon. Lately she began feeling like that pathway was closer than once thought, and even that she may already be in the right direction. Yet, even thinking about another man felt wrong still in the pits of her stomach. Maker, it nearly made her feel uneasy to consider being with another man, mentally and physically. So much effort had gone into just allowing herself fall into the physicality of making love with Alistair, of doing the things with him that every man and woman who felt something for each other did. Even with no contact and her knowledge of his hatred for her, she missed him with every beat of her heart and every movement their child made within her womb. 

“For the sake of Andraste,” she whispered to herself, roughly wiping away a few tears that had managed to sneak out. “I thought I was done with the weeping.” Aurora knew in herself that she emotional, hell, sometimes she could be way too damn sensitive. It was a trait that drove her practically crazy about herself, falling into the annoying cliche belief that all women were emotional messes. She had killed things no individual, male or female, would ever experience no matter how great a warrior they were. The archdemon met its final breath at her sword, she saved not only a nation, but the whole damn world. Could she not muster enough internal strength within her soul to not cry for one blasphemed day? The only response she got was a big and rather drool coating kiss from Dream, to which she laughed and petted his shiny coat softly. He had been with her every step of the way, every heart break and milestone in her pathway. “You will be a good big brother, won't you?” He barked happily in response, like he knew that his Mistress was carrying a new life. For all she knew, he probably did. 

With a slight jump, the carriage began to move and the “clip clop” of the horses prancing could be heard. The sound brought back memories of leaving with her family, staying in Denerim or Redcliff. Mother would let her sit in her lap, holding her and pointing at certain things through the window as they passed by. Father would tell her stories of her Grandfather and Grandmother, the people she had never gotten to known on either side of her parents. Then Fergus would wake her up by sticking his finger in her ear, sending her into a fit of panic due to her strong phobia of a bug finding its way into the crevice that inhabited the sides of her head. 

On their last trip together she had been thirteen, far too old for her Mother's lap and clasped tightly into her very first corset and a dress of pure silk with the most gorgeous embroidery of flowers she had ever seen. Fergus had made fun of her the whole way, telling her she looked like the powder covered ladies that often attended their parents balls and other noble abundant parties. Finally, she had kicked him so hard an imprinted bruise of her foot took up occupance on his lower shin. Father had roared with laughter to such an extent he couldn't breathe and Mother ended up yelling at him more than her children. 

Things would be so different at the castle, so plain and dreary without the people she had grown up with and loved dearly constantly whisking in, out, and all about the vast castle. Every day she missed them, yearning for advice from her Mother and Oriana on the pregnancy and how to be a Mother in general. Mother had always gushed about when Aurora would bring children into the world, talking about how darling and perfect her little ones would be. Of course, she probably would have murdered her for being an unwed noble woman carrying the new King's illegitimate and only heir, but if her parents had not been murdered things would not have carried out in the fashion they did. 

Even with all the sadness that would surround them in their childhood home, she was set on making things feel warm and welcoming. Although slightly scared at telling her brother about her pregnancy, she hoped and was also a bit certain that his niece or nephew would bring a new found joy into their lives, even in the late term mourning they would feel. Zevran too would help with the mood too, of course, his witty jokes and constant humor in general would help them both. Then there was thoughts of Christmas, sitting about a large pine tree with Leliana and laughing with a slight disgust at the outrageous burps of Oghren. Wynne would shake her head in her motherly way, but a small smile of her own would still linger on her face. 

“Dream, we're going home.”


	9. Suprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of flash backs in my writing, but as much as I adore Dragon Age: Origins, one thing I always disliked was the lack of emotion there seemed to be within the Warden and surrounding their situations. Of course, this might just be because the Warden doesn't have a voice actress so feeling her emotion is a bit harder. I want to give life to the blob of computer configuration and breathe life into her and those connected to her. More action will come, but for now I am building a foundation.

Fergus washed his face in the basin, feeling the poking stubble that had appeared over night on his skin. He was in back in the quarters he had once shared with Oriana, and Oren when he had a bad a dream and would beg to sleep snuggled between the two. Many of the repairs had begun when he was away, one of the main reasons he had spent a short time in the safety of the sea. It was found that the bodies had all been hastily buried in large mass graves, everyone thrown into a single place. He had hired people before he left to look through the corpses, he knew that he did not have the strength to do it himself.. Five months later, returning to his childhood home he was met with the news that his wife and child had been found, along with his Father and Mother.

Identified by clothing and certain characteristics, they were placed into proper coffins and were temporarily kept in the castle basement until the monument that was being built in their honor, and every other individual that died that day, was finished. He found tidbits of his old life, like the occasional ruby decorated hair pins his Mother had once adored and Oren's small socks that he would never keep on, no matter the weather. 

A few times he had sat on his parents bed, running his fingers over the velvet covers and thinking back to the nights when he was a but barely passed being a tot, six years old and Aurora just a babe with the tiniest tuff of hair. Mother had made an effort to equally distribute the attention between them, even when suddenly he went from an only child to an older brother. When Father would still be in his study during the evening hours, she would read to the both of them from a large and ancient looking book titled the, “Tales Of Thedas”. Then a story or two later, half asleep and warm in his Mother's embrace, Father would scoop him up and place him in his bed down the hall, tucking him in and kissing his head. He had continued the process when Oriana gave birth to Oren, always reading to their baby boy. 

New servants had been hired, along with the the return of the few who had survived the massacre along with the guards. Buildings were in the process of being rebuilt, a constant flow of people painting and washing. He would walk among them, returning smiles and joyful greetings so many would bid his way. It wasn't lonely in Highever castle, nor was it dull, he had managed to not quite let his family's death consume him but it did still feel different, like a memory that had been twisted and turned until it was no longer his own but rather belonged to somebody else. 

Brushing back his hair into a tidy look, he dressed hastily and finally exited his quarters to make his morning rounds. In each morning he was brought with the prosperous hope that his sister would return, putting at least one of the missing puzzle pieces of his home in its place. He was worried about her, knowing that the ending relationship of her and Alistair had been especially rough. The accusations he was also aware of, but he knew his sister better than that. Regardless of how much she trained on her own time as a rogue, Mother had raised a noble daughter, not only in title but in mind, she would never betray her future husband, especially not with someone who was so deeply intertwined with their family's executioner. 

Coming into the bright morning light he smiled, the sun a new found visitor that had hid itself away for the last week. In the distance, a small boy ran towards him on his short legs, calling out his name, “Teyrn Cousland!” He seemed similar in age to Oren was when he left to fight in the Blight, a childhood roundness still in his face. Finally, he stood before him, bowing before him. 

“Oh, there is need for that, Squire....?” He let the words flow on, unsure of the little boys name. 

“James, sir.” He spoke respectfully, “Mother said I should speak to you in my greatest mannerism.”

Fergus grinned, “Well, thank you. What news do you bring?”

“Your sister has arrived, Tyrna Aurora,” He paused, looking down a for a minute before continuing to speak in a hushed tone, “Is it true she killed the dragon and ended the Blight?” The boys eyes were wide, like he was waiting for the confirmation of his greatest wish.

“Yes, that would be her. The Hero Of Ferelden.”

“Your sister is The Hero Of Ferelden? Mine can't even walk, let alone carry a sword,” He seemed absolutely flabbergasted.

“I remember when Aurora couldn't, I'm sure if you lead your sister in the right direction she could yield a sword in no time.”

“Tried that once, Mother wasn't pleased. Oh! West Wing, talking with the guards.”

“Thank you, James.”

“Of Course, Sir.” He bowed once more and than was off nearly as quickly as he had arrived. 

Fergus himself practically ran, the budding joy in his stomach so great he felt as if he would nearly burst. Flying as fast his legs would take him down the rock covered pathways, he opened one of the doors to the West Wing and was met with the site of his little sister and her friend, the one he had hired to find her in the first place.

“Fergus!” She ran to him, hugging him so tightly she almost knocked him over. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Maker's breath, it feels like it has been years.” Pulling away, he kept his arms on her shoulders, “Let me look at you.” She was still milk pale, a trait that often lead to him making jokes about her sitting in the library and reading too much. Her hair was longer than when he had last seen her, the thick braid falling over her left shoulder and over her stom-, wait a minute.

“Are you.....?” His eyebrows rose so high his forehead hurt, mouth agape.

“Just fat? Not quite.” Shyly she smiled, “You're going to be an uncle.”

“And...the Father....Alistair?”

She sighed, “Yes.” The subject seemed to make her uncomfortable, feet shifting a bit. “How are you, Fergus?” Then her eyes were searching him, trying to read him in the same way their Mother had. 

“I am holding up fine, really,” He tried to assure her with a smile, showing that he was in all actuality being honest with her. “It hurts but...I am healing.”

“Good,” She smiled and hugged him once more, feeling the old safety of family. “You're not upset about...my being with child, are you?” Her words were hesitant, carefully picked. 

“No, of course not. There are things we could do to make it easier if you're worried about your public appearance, but I do not see you as anything than other than my little sister.”

“Thank you, Fergus.” She smiled sadly, “There are many things I need to tell you, things that I should have told all of our family long ago.” 

“I will never judge you, Aurora. You know this.”

“I know, but...well, you'll see.” She turned, glancing at Zevran who had been all together silent. “Well, I believe you two have met before.”

“Only briefly, but still. I can not thank you enough for ensuring she got here safely, especially with her being in no condition to fight.”

Aurora huffed at this, rolling her eyes. “As soon as these four months are over I am dueling you, and I swear to the maker, I will best you.”

Fergus chuckled, “Still the little spit fire, I see,” He looked down at her, poking a bit of fun at her height of five six. While she wasn't short, in comparison to him and both of their parents, she was practically a visitor from Ozammar. 

“Could you stop bulling me and feed me? You have no idea how hungry I am.”

“If this child has has appetite as strong as you, I can only imagine.”


	10. A Fathers Secret

Aurora sighed, staring at the pale parchment paper laid before her but making no moves to write words with her overly inked quill. Writing to Wynne made her nervous, nervous that when she arrived something would not be right with her child, or that she would at once make her tell the Father that he was, well, to be a Father. She dearly hoped that the older woman, who had become much like a Mother figure to her in the passing of her own, would understand. Finally taking a deep breath in, she summoned all the courage she could find with her and began to write, 

Dear Wynne, 

While I wish I could say I am writing to you simply to state a simple greeting and question you of how the Tower fairs, I am afraid there is a completely different matter at hand. A month or so after we ended the Blight, I began to have symptoms that finally became explained; I am with child, about five months. Being as this is an impossibility, I really was never supposed to be able to conceive, I would like to request your presence. There is no better Healer in all of Thedas, nor would I rather have any other woman at my side, save for my own Mother, during this time. I have enclosed payments for your travels here, my former home of Highever, and I hope to see you soon. 

Your favorite Warden, Aurora. 

Letting all the air she had been forcefully stuffing in her lungs, she sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling, the same ceiling she had stared upon for years in her childhood when rest would not come. It had seemed that after Howe had taken over everything her family had once owned, he had not even had the castle lived in. He simply slaughtered every inhabitant and rose his own status, stating what had happened as a great tragedy and nothing more. Even his death memories of him still haunted her, plagued the back of her mind and twisted her emotions into painful things that demanded to be felt. Only one soul knew of her past with Howe, the only man she had trusted and loved enough to allow entry into her heart. Maker, did she miss those arms and comforting midnight kisses. The way he would pull her close when the nightmares struck, the only witness to their love the silent and forever blinking stars. If they could talk, could they remind her of the fondest of times with her long gone lover? How many secrets did the night sky hold?

Her belly had seemed to double in size in the week she spent at Highever, growing in a roundness that now was instantly recognizable as a hint at flourishing new life. Sometimes her little miracle would kick hard, sending its Mother jumping and nearly dropping whatever it was she had been doing prior. The favorite thing though, a memory she would hold near and dear to her heart for the rest of her life, was the little responsive kicks she would get by pressing at where she felt her little one. Yearning to hold her baby already, she would ask one of the servant woman to bring her fabric and other sewing things from the markets and day dream of little fingers and toes while designing little sleeping gowns and mittens. He or she would be born in the winter, and she wanted to make sure they had the most warmth possible. 

A knock on her door moved her away from the oak desk, opening to see who was there. Fergus greeted her with a smile, “There you are. Care to go for a walk?” He held his arm out, to which she wrapped a hand around his elbow and continued with him out the door.

“I feel huge”, she looked down, seeing only the dark purple fabric of her dress rather than her toes; dresses had seemed a lot more comfortable than pants, lately. 

“Oh please, you just look like you've stolen one of the smaller sized pumpkins from the market and shoved it under your gown.”

“Well this is the heaviest damn small pumpkin I've ever carried.” She smiled though, settling her hands on her belly. 

“Mother would be so happy...seeing you like this. Maybe not the unwed part, but part, but...” He smiled sadly, eyes distant with graying memories. 

“I remember how she was with Oriana, always asking if the baby was kicking. Oh, Fergus, I'm so sorry”, she froze, seeming horrified with herself. 

“No, don't apologize. They may no longer be with us, but we can always keep them alive through words. Oren would have been ecstatic to finally have a playmate, he was practically begging us for a little brother by the time he could talk,” He paused for a moment,” I miss him, his play fighting with wooden swords and mispronunciation of “truthiness”. If he had known his Auntie was a Grey Warden, he would have been asking you for a wrapped griffon under the Christmas tree.”

Aurora smiled at his, her chest aching to hug her little nephew once more. “He was the kindest little soul I ever met.”

“And the bravest, he was born to be a warrior, a knight perhaps. He deserved so much more than...than what he got.” Fergus's voice cracked, giving away at the sorrow he had held in so long. Even if he had not let it destroy him, it still stung him deeply. 

“Fergus...would you help me, with the nursery? I really have no clue what I'm doing...” She looked at him, hoping her question would not backfire into more sadness. 

“You know, I always thought you'd be asking me to be the dummy of one of your sword practices, not an architect.”

“What can I say? You just scream, Orlasian Designer to me.”

He laughed at this, “Well, we'll have to have a bassinet made. Not that the babe will be in there nearly as much as it is in bed with you, that I promise, but it is nice to have one on hand. You really can never go wrong with a rocking chair...wait, does this mean you'll be staying here?”

“Well of course. Where else would I raise a Cousland?”

“Oh thank the Maker, truth be told I was a bit worried about how lonely it would be here with you.” He breathed out, a sigh of relief. 

“I would never leave you alone here, Fergus, even if I wasn't pregnant.”

“Speaking of which, does Alistair know?”

“No, he doesn't. I'm afraid he'll question the child's paternity, after what happened with Loghain.”

“Aurora, I know you have no desire to speak with the man and I don't think anyone can blame you, but this is his child as well.”  
“I'm well aware of that, how could I not be? But I do not want her to face the rejection of her Father, I don't want her to feel that pain. No child should grow up like that, Fergus. No baby should feel unloved by one of their parents.”

He nodded slowly, “I know, but Aurora, this could be the only heir of Ferelden, the only hope of a future King or Queen this country has. Do you really want to have to tell this child last minute someday when Ferleden is scraping around the barrel for some long lost cousin to seat on the throne? We both know how that felt for Alistair.”

“I know, I know. I'm, I'm scared Fergus. Scared of seeing him, scared of hurting again, I'm so damn terrified. I can handle him rejecting me, it hurts, but I can take it. Rejecting our child though, that would hurt me so much more.”

“You know that Zevran and I will be with you every step of the way, Aurora.” He put an arm on her shoulder, “You will never have to go through anything alone.”

She looked up at him, chewing her lower lip and finally nodding, “Okay. I'll tell him.”


	11. Silk Trousers

Darkness bathed the entire dungeons of the palace, lit by only the far spaced torches marking the walls. Two Templars stood silently in front of one cell, silent and unwavering without even a single word spoken between the two even though they had been guarding the small room for hours. Behind them, appearing to be doing nothing but sleeping, was the Blood Mage known as Aeden, kept only alive for further interrogation from the King himself. In the depths of his mind though, he was wide awake, alive and chain free in the Fade, a place most Blood Mages struggled to find entry to. A few centuries practice had brought him a bought of knowledge, though.

 

The Fade was an interesting place, a place that could mold and form into your greatest dreams and desires. It was currently though merely in a neutral stage, blurred edges and unknown cliffs that fell off into no where. Most would be afraid, seated within the heart of a different world than that of the living. Aeden felt come though, a serenity that only came from a man who was in complete control of everything around him. He needed no demons to make deals with, for he practically was one. Unlike Flemeth, he had allowed no rumors to spread about him over the centuries his life had spanned on through. This in turn, made him even more deadly. You learn to fear and protect yourself from the evils you know, but what about those that are foreign to you?

 

After what seemed ages of waiting, the impatient elderly man finally began to see the forming specs that eventually became the solid forms of his two sons, Samson, tall and broad, and Samuel, tall and lithe. Both brothers seemed no older than thirty, but yet aged and tainted in a way that only those who fell so deeply into the dark arts could appear. In the same likeness of their Father, they bore the black webs of veins throughout their body, eyes murky and white with the only indication of color their corrupted blood. They bowed before their Father, the man that gave them life and sought to control every aspect of it. 

 

“Have you located the woman, yet?”

 

Samson was the one to speak, "She resides in her former home, Castle Cousland, in the depths of Highever city. There she lives with her brother and an elven scum. We believe her to only be in the second trimester."

 

“As soon as you believe her to be in the ninth month, I want you both to sedate and bring her to the chambers beneath the Brecilian Forest. We must get the child as soon as it is born, then I would like to see if she holds the ancestry in her blood to birth more mage children, ones of the same power the one she carries contains. The power of our home, of the Tevinter Imperium, is in the palm of our hands and we must not fail. This is a pathway that can lead us into smashing the Quanari species out of existence and growing from the shadows of our former glory into taking claim once more over the southern nations. Do I make myself understood?”

Both men nodded in unison, knowing that if they failed their Father both would be met with something far greater and more painful than death.

 

….

Alistair watched the dancing orange flames from within the fireplace, eyelids falling with the promise of soon to come slumber. It was warm in his chambers, but no so much so that he was uncomfortable. Rather, everything was just the right degree, a slight cooling breeze falling over his exposed skin from the window he had opened. Only in his trousers, a new silken pair that made his arse feel like he was sitting on a cloud, he had never quite been so comfortable.

 

He allowed his eyelids to fall, leaning further into his overly cushioned chair and letting the calm feeling of sleep pull him into a loving embrace and then.....someone banged on his bedroom door and he tumbled out of the chair with a thud, nearly putting a foot in the fire. Teagan slowly opened, peeking his head in to find a disgruntled and nearly torched Alistair.

 

“Bloody hell, Teagan! Were you knocking on the door or were you trying to make me piss myself?” Pulling himself up, he stood and tried to look as Kingly as possible.

 

“Might I say my King, that is not something very difficult to do.”

 

“You're a bad person.” He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping Teagan didn't notice his pajama pants.

 

“As I've been told. Besides the fact that you are the easiest scared world known warrior I have ever met, we have more important and less comedic issues at hand. Issues that include Lady Cousland.”

 

“Has she been located?” Alistair couldn't disguise his excitement, hopefulness igniting in his chest.

 

“Yes, it seems the search party was rather unneeded. Her elder brother, the Teyrn, he has sent a letter. She is....not in a state to travel, exactly.” Teagan paused for a moment, rethinking his words; he had been told of the pregnancy, but was instructed to not tell the King.

 

“What? Is she alright?”

 

“Yes Alistair, she is fine, but Fergus asks that if you would like to speak to her, that you come to Cousland Castle. If not, Aurora would not be able to visit you for...another three or four months.” He silently cursed himself, Maker, if Alistair didn't catch on it would be a miracle.

 

“Three or four months? What kind of illness does she have?” Luckily, Alistair wasn't exactly skilled in the topics of sexual education. What more would someone expect from some who grew up in a Chantry? The only thing they taught there was abstinence, which obviously had not worked in his favor.

 

“One that is...spread from person to person. Now,” Teagan was desperate to change the subject before he gave anything more away, “We both know you have been itching to get out of this Maker forsaken palace for months.”

 

“You're not wrong there...”

 

“You will be required to bring guards with you though, Alistair.”

 

He groaned, “I've killed dragons! Broodmothers! I can go to Highever alone, Teagan.”

 

The older man squinted his eyes, brow furrowed, “Do I dare ask what even a Broodmother is?”

 

“No, you do not. Usually you would think a situation involving several pairs of breast would be an enlightening one, but Maker...this was like a wet dream turned nightmare.”

 

“Alistair.” Teagan shook his head, setting a hand to his forehead.

 

“Hey, don't face palm me until you've seen it. Back to the matter at hand, I am more than able and equipped to go to Castle Cousland on my own. You know this, Teagan.”

 

“I also know that my knocking nearly made you wet your drawers and that you don't exactly pay attention once deep in thought.”

"Hey!"

“I'm not saying you have to take the entire Royal Army, Alistair, but you are not going alone and that is final.”

 

He pouted but gave in, falling back into his chair with a pitiful whine of a voice, “Fine.”


	12. Personal Opinions

Aurora's unbuttoned blouse kissed the edges of her hips, giving the older woman the ability to check her thoroughly. She twirled a finger over the pulled taunt skin, encompassing around what she was sure was a little foot. It was a strange feeling, carrying another life within, creating a new life in general. She had destroyed a dragon with the soul of an old god, fought monsters from the very pits of the earth, decapitated abominations, and yet this simple thing was her greatest advent yet. 

Turning back towards her after humming softly, Wynne's cool hands pressed against her abdomen with a slight pressure. Beneath her palms a faint green glow painted her skin, not an artificial color, something like vegetarian and life. Her eyes were focused, lips pressed into a white line and pale brows furrowed as her hands smoothed from just below Aurora's breasts to above her pelvic bone. 

“Is everything alright?” Aurora felt a bit startled, anxiety's that she had kept buried crawling to the top and taking breaths of life. 

“Oh, yes, very much so. You're the splitting image of a healthy pregnancy. It is just that....well,” She didn't seem sure how to continue, removing her hands from the rounding promise of life to over the young woman's heart, keeping it their for several beats. 

“The very first time I healed you when we met within the Circle, I could feel the taint pulsating off of you in waves. It was like the blood that flowed through you was a hurricane, I've felt it in every Grey Warden I have ever been around, the older they are, the worse. Yours though now, there's nothing; the taint is mute. Your body gives off no indication of having any of it, not even slightly.” 

“That can't be possible.”

“No, it really should not be. Yet, here we are. You have to be at the least six months along, which places your date of conception sometime around when we were in Orzammar.” 

Aurora felt her cheeks go pink, thinking back to their stay beneath the Frostback Mountains. Showers, as it had seemed, contained many more uses than just for cleansing, nor was it just the showering chambers that got extremely...steamy.

“I've had all the senses that come with being a Warden though, especially at the end of the Blight. Maker, how was the baby not harmed when I struck down the archdemon?”

“You didn't notice the absence of your monthly cycle?”

“No, it would go absent for months at a time from all the physical endurance my body was shocked into.”

“Well, it seems the Maker was smiling down upon you when you became with child.”

“But Wynne, if there's something that ended the negative symptoms of becoming a Grey Warden, we have to get it to Alistair. He has a Kingdom to protect and lead, he has to have this cure.”' She swung her legs over her bed, buttoning her blouse up and standing. A hand firmly laid upon her shoulder though, stopping her from continuing further. 

“You are not in any state to go marching off to Denerim, not in the slightest. Besides, do you not think there is other things you should tell him first? Like the impending birth of his child?”  
She hung her head at this, frowning, “You have to understand why I didn't at first...”

“I do, my dear, I very much do. What happened, it was not easy for the either of you. You have to break past that though and continue forward. This child deserves it.”

“I know, I am. It just is not the sort of thing I really want to break to him over a piece of parchment paper. Even though seeing him face to face will be difficult, and Maker, speaking to him....I have to. Fergus sent a letter to Teagan, he's been mentoring him as King for the last few months while Eamon spends some final time with Connor. He asked him in the letter to not tell Alistair, but rather request that he sends him here, to Highever.” She breathed out, trying to cool all her nerves with a single gust of air. 

“Would you like me to be present with you once the time comes to break the news? If he tries to question his role in Fatherhood to your child, I will ensure him that there is no possible way he is not. I could also set his hair on fire, but only for you.” She smiled softly, grasping Aurora's hands in her own, “You need to calm your inner demons, my child, for good. I have seen you struggle and conquer first nearly two years. You can not defeat your adversaries only to let them rise up against you once more. You serve as a perfect Teyrna, but you must heal your own mind as well.”

Tears clouded Aurora's vision, turning Wynne's aged but still beautiful face into a melting pot of features, “I'm trying so hard, but I am petrified. I do not know how to be a good Mother to my child, even though I want them more than anything in this entire universe. I am terrified Alistair will reject me once more, and overall, I am so afraid of letting down my family more than I already have. When I saw my Father's spirit while we were looking for the Ashes Of Andraste, I thought for sure I had found inner peace, that I had forgiven myself for my sins. Now though, I just feel as if I have reopened long closed stitches and they ache even more.” A final sob escaped her throat, strangled and tarnished with such an amount of anguish she finally sat back into the plush safety of her bed. Making no effort to cover the fast falling liquefied torment, she stared off through her bedroom window and wished for a moment she could simply rectify herself as the air; a felt existence, but entirely invisible from the world. 

Wynne sat next to her, wrapping an arm over Aurora's shoulder in a motherly fashion, one she wished so much she could do with her own child. Summoning all the wisdom she could in her sixty years of existence, she spoke with such a depth that she prayed to Maker she could find entrance into the impenetrable walls of the shattered woman's soul, “I have never seen a woman as strong as you are, nor do I think I ever will, even if I did manage to live another three centuries among the many lands of Thedas. You survived, through every battle scar and thing that said you should not. You have defied all odds, changed the path that was set for you and refurbished it in a way you found fitting, but not for yourself. You changed the acts of time to save a world that did nothing but spit upon your back as soon as you turned. Through murder and treachery, demons and humans, you have seen and tasted every hardship of life but yet here you stand. Good mother's do not fear being bad ones, they do not face their greatest fear for the sake of their children. You would risk getting yourself killed for a complete stranger if they called out for help, Maker can only imagine what you will do this for this baby.” Brushing the woman's tears away, she looked deeply into her midnight and storm harboring eyes, “You are a fighter, and not only that, but a Vanquisher and a Hero. The only thing you need to do now, is be those things for yourself.”

Aurora was left speechless, searching for words that would not illustrate themselves no matter how hard she attempted the act of thought. Wynne had always applied a but of pressure on her, not in an unkindly way, but like that of a parent who was constantly pushing their child to meet the success they new was achievable. She had complimented her before, but not like this, not in such an uplifting and honest way. Each word seemed to require no thought when it had left her mouth, coming with such ease she had to have thought them before.

“You must see all these things on your own, my dear. In the end, your opinion on yourself is the one that matters the most. Do you see, now?”

The woman shook her head, the foggy blindness that had incarcerated her mind for so many years finally beginning to melt away. Not because of the man she loved, not because of the compliments of an elder woman, but because for once she began to see the girl that others had witnessed for so long.


	13. A King's Arse

Snow dusted the palace grounds in a white and fluffy layer, a consistency that was so light it held resemblance to the clouds of the heavens. Even though the weather was a site straight from a fairy tale book, the air was a deadly cold and no living thing seemed reluctant on taking an adventure outside. Besides the King, that is, who was walking down the palace's bronze colored steps and over the dirt lacking and smooth marble pathway that would reflect the sun if it decided to peek out from behind the safety of the white overcast that sanctioned off the sky from the rest of the country.

Fur lined boots and a cloak heavier than the blankets of his bed, Alistair was about as toasty warm as a breakfast frying pan at the crack of dawn. He was overcome a bit with a very pounding and life robbing hangover, but he managed to not trip over his own two feet so really, that's what counts. Finally coming to the carriage, he was greeted with the site of a very unimpressed looking Teagan.

“Before you are off, there is a few more things we must discuss.”

“Hit me with it,” Alistair held his arms out wide, beckoning with his large hands towards his heart.

“Dear Maker, Alistair, as far as the public knows you're a mature and sophisticated young man who shows the likeliness of being one of the greatest Kings this country has ever seen. Behind closed doors though you're just as childish as when I last saw you covered in mud at Redcliffe.”

“Oh Teag, is this your way of telling me your enjoy my liveliness and youth like spirit?”

“If you get assassinated in the next few weeks, you'll know why,” Teagan changed his tone, heading down a more serious route, “Alistair, you need to hold out on the booze, especially while in Highever. I am well aware of how many bottles of antivian brandy you have sucked down in the last few weeks.”

“You went through my garbage?!”

“It was all that was your garbage, I could see the bloody bottles sticking out of the waste basket when the maid was walking down the hall. You are cycling me so far off from subject I reckon my voice is currently being heard as far as Orlais. You love this woman, do you not?”

“...Yes.”

“And you want to mend the relationship that you took a big heaping royal shat upon?”

“...Yes.”

“Then man up and stop brushing your teeth with over priced liquors! You can run a kingdom but you can't clean yourself up enough to make up with the woman you managed to knock off the face of planet?” Teagan paused, and managed to knock up, “ Pull your trousers up, stop scratching your arse, and strand straight!”

“Yes, I..I am terribly sorry Teagan.” Alistair's shoulders slumped a bit, his humorous and sarcastic stance crumbling.

“Lad,” He sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder, “You are a great man, now just go and say you're sorry to the woman you love.”

With a final nod, Alistair turned to the coachman who opened the carriage door for him, stepping into the object that would once more unite him with his Aurora. He watched as the palace began to grow smaller and smaller, exiting through the palace gates and coming upon the slick imperial highway. He laid his head against the glassed window, enjoying the chilled temperature against his hot and clammy skin. Everything felt surreal, on a journey to the woman he had sworn his hatred against. A knot had on and off cramped in the pits of his stomach, but now it was a constant and stabbing pain that made him feel physically ill, and he knew that it wasn't just his hangover.

Every night he thought about her, the smiles of her face and the calming tone of his voice when he would fall down his unavoidable path of self doubt and induced anxiety. She had built him up, made him the King he was today, but in the end his payback to her was to break her heart and shatter her soul. He wished with everything in his soul, body, and mind that she was holding up alright in Highever. He knew much more had happened there than her family's massacre, years worth of anguish and abuse under the man that would eventually smite her down as an orphan and help but their country in uproar. The first night he had told her her own story, what things had lead her to being his fellow Grey Warden, was a night that would forever be a solid memory within his mind, never falling prey to deterioration.

 

_All their fellow party members had retired to their tents, falling into a deep slumber that only came from a day overflowing with physical exhaustion. It had been a month since the two were brought together under the crumbling architecture of Ostagar, thirty-one days since everything had collapsed into an ocean deep catastrophe. In those days the two had formed a bond, one deeper than just the same taint that danced through their veins._

_She was sitting close to him, hip pressed to his own and head lying upon his shoulder. They were looking at the stars, speaking of deep things that existed with their own minds, things they only felt comfortable sharing with each other._

_“Do you think their truly is a Maker? A holy, godly individual who in our deaths will deliver us from all our former pain and suffering?” Her eyes seemed so distant in that moment, like she was sailing the midnight sky on a voyage to the moons._

_“Why not? If all this evil exists, surely there has to be some contradicting thing of goodness.” He laid his head upon her own, hand tucked around her waist._

_“How could he let the greatest and most virtuous people die, though?” He could hear her anger, a fiery wisp that coated her melodious toned voice. “How could someone who holds so much power just sit back and watch?” Her voice broke, dissolving into a despair ridden and small thing._

_“Aurora?” He titled her chin so she would have to look him in the eyes, brow furrowed, “You have never shared with me why you became a Warden.”_

_She laughed, choked on a sob and let out a long breath before he got any answer out of her, “You must promise to not treat me any differently, swear on it; an oath as great as the Grey Wardens.”_

_“You have my Templars Honor, for whatever it's worth.”_

_“Bryce Cousland...did you ever meet him, when you lived with Eamon?”_

_“A kind man, tall with blue eyes?”_

_She smiled sadly, nodding, “He was my Father, and Eleanor My Mother, the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, a genealogy as old as Ferelden itself.”_

_“You're...you're a Cousland?”_

_“Afraid so,” She tapped her fingers on her thigh, nibbling on her lower lip, “My Father was very close friends with Rendon Howe,” The tapping froze, nails digging crescent moons into her flesh, “On August eleventh, he decided to massacre my entire family; my Father, my Mother, my sister-in-law, my five year old nephew, every servant who was loyal to us and every guard that dressed in our cress. He executed them, but I set their fates on the night of my thirteenth birthday,” Her chest was falling and rising quickly, a secret seven years deep and a conscious stained with a mourning permanency, “Alistair, I am the reason my family was murdered, I am the cause of their screams and the reason for their spilled blood. I see my nephew in my sleep and hear my Mother scream in the whistling of the wind. I can not be the hero of this country, I can not lead this group.” Her eyes were wide, like that of the twin moons that rested in full cycle over them._

_Alistair's mouth was agape, shock and guilt ridden with the way he had treated his own situation when hers was so much greater than his own. Words would not come to his brain and no sound left his tongue as he struggled to comfort someone who had lost it all. He used physicality, encircling her form in his arms and letting her sob into his chest. It was a sound of mourning, quiet but loud all in the same quarter note. That night he held her until she fell into exhaustion, then even in her slumber, held hers still._

 

He imagined now that he was the reason for her evening sobs, sounds that would bounce off the bedroom walls of a place she had been defiled in. They would become louder and louder, eventually surrounding her full circle in damp anguish. Moving away from the window he slouched down into the plush seat of the carriage, staring above at the ceiling and listening to the winter songs of the Ferelden winds. It would take four entire days for him to reach her, to see his beloved once more. Wishing desperately for the gift of flight, he buried his face in the seat and began his desperate attempt at thinking something that render him worth of Aurora's forgiveness.


	14. Pontentness

Aurora felt like she was boiling within her own body, beads of sweat sweeping across her forehead and skin flushed red. She had stripped down to only her short, a long sleeved cotton thing that rested just over hips even though her belly held it up a bit higher. Laying on her back pressed into the silken sheets she kept her legs propped up against the stone wall, relying on the coolness it conducted from the winter weather.

Spinning around in his friend's desk chair, Zevran was eating chocolate pudding from a silver dish, “You know, Antivia does not have milky goodness quite like this.” 

“What can I say, Ferelden is good for more than just the practices of letting dogs sleep in beds,” She scratched the top of Dreams head, who was pouting about the uncomfortable sate his Mistress was in. 

“Well of course, it has you.” He sat the bowl down, joining her on the bed and putting his own legs against the wall, “What did Wynne say, about the baby?”

“She's fine, better than fine, great.” She smiled, “Although I would appreciate not always being in the sate of a heat stroke.”

“Maybe it is like an egg...you have to heat up the water do a certain point to fully cook it.” He flashed a smile, looking her way, a golden lock of his own hair meeting her own.

Cocking an eyebrow, she shook her head but soon found herself bursting with laughter, “I swear to the Maker, how can someone who considers him a sex god not have the slightest clue about one of the most major after sex side effects?”

“I can't say I've ever experienced that certain side effect.”

“Oh? You do not believe there is any little pointed eared Zev's marching around out in the world of Thedas?'

“Don't even put that fear into my head. The very last thing I need is to one day as an old man open my cottage door and find several hundred bastard children rigging me up for their lack of a Father figure.”

“Several hundred?” 

“Give or take.”

Aurora gave him a wide eyed look, which only made the elf roar with laughter, “I jest, I jest, I swear on it. I will not lie about being experienced, but not quite that experienced. That just seems rather..excessive.”

“I'm experienced enough to wind up pregnant.”

“Yes, well, it wasn't as if the two you were very quiet about your nightly adventures. For two virgins, you sounded awfully like the whore house I grew up in.”

She swatted his shoulder, rolling on her side and moving her legs from the wall in an attempt to get to her feet. It took several tries, but finally she was sitting up right and getting to her feet, “Shall we join Fergus for dinner? I'm famished.”  
“You ate half of my damn pudding three minutes ago!”

“You offered me a bite.”

“A bite, you spiteful woman.”

She turned her head at him, shooting a narrow eyed glare and sticking her tongue out. Unbuttoning her blouse and throwing it to the side of the room, she opened the doors of her wardrobe and sifted through various colored fabrics. Finally settling on a thick dress, colored blue and made of a velveteen fabric, even though she had only moments before been complaining on being too hot. Finally slipping on her silk slippers, she took Zevran's arm and walked with him down the hall into the family dining room. 

Zevran was still recovering a bit from her new found uncaring of being almost nude around him, his brain buzzing with various things that he was not currently in a position to think about. Still though, he pulled a chair out for his secret lady love to which he received a gentle kiss upon his stubble covered cheek. Smiling contently, he took his seat to her left side and took a sip of the white wine already present in his glass. 

“I'm incredibly jealous of your ability to drink.” Aurora pouted, bringing her milk to her lips for a sip.

“I myself am a bit upset that I do not get to see you drunk. You're the funniest thing I have witnessed when under the influence of alcohol,” He looked away, whispering under his breath, “Light weight.”

Before she could argue her point on being a self proclaimed light weight, a petite elven woman entered through the archway. A plate occupying each hand, she sat the glass dishes before the two but in a far more seductive way when going towards Zevran. Letting her loose cotton dress dip low in an advantage shot of her cleavage, she shot him a flirty smirk before walking back to the kitchen with a sway of her hips. 

“Looks like someone has picked up an admirer,” Aurora laughed, spooning mashed potatoes into her mouth. 

“Meh,” He shrugged, cutting the lamb chop set before him into pieces. 

“Meh? Since when has the great Zevran went “Meh” to a inviting young woman who feels a flirtatious interest towards him?”

“What can I say, I have lost...my mojo.” He sniffled, wiping away a fake tear. 

“Are you saying you once had this “mojo”?” 

“You wound my heart so, I imagine I will find myself returning to the Maker soon.”

“He'd send you back, no doubt.”

Cutting into their playful banter, Wynne entered the room which ignited a grin on Zevran's face, “Ah, my favorite and most ravishing mage! Come, join us in the feasting and the drinking of the spirits!”

“Yes Wynne, please do sit with us. We were just discussing how Zevran has lost his potency.” Her words caused the elf to choke on his bite of lamb, sputtering into a fit of coughs. Wynne simply shook her head, but a smile did grace her lips as she joined them at the table. “I am glad to see you are well Zevran, even if you have lost your.. potency.”

“Alas, your words mend the shattered bits of my heart. Might I...rest my head upon your bosom, just like the good old days?” He fluttered his blonde lashes, trying to create aurora of innocence.

“The good old days, when I still would not let you rest your head upon my bosom?” She drank from her own wine glass, staring the elf down.

“Hey, it was a worth shot.”

“The chances of you receiving a positive answer were about as great as the holy Andraste dancing on this very table.” She paused to thank the same elven woman presenting a plate before her, “Aurora, are you still being overrun with a fever?”

“Sadly,” She sighed, fanning herself and slouching in her chair, “I just want to have this baby already.”

“I know my child, but I am afraid that is not going to happen for a few more months.”

“You can't just throw a spell at me that will make her appear in my arms?”

“You're rather certain that you're carrying a daughter, aren't you?” The mage smiled, “Have you thought of names?”

“Ella..short for Eleanor, my Mother's name, and then the middle name Oriana, for my brother's wife.” She chewed her lower lip, eyes distant with the preoccupation of another place and time. 

“That is a beautiful name.”

“Yes.” She spoke quietly, a barely audible whisper.


	15. Your Highness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for going silent for a few days, things got busy.

The gates that opened into Castle Cousland seemed to dissapear into the cloudy Ferelden sky, the last thing sanctioning off King Alistair from his former lover. Three guards stood behind him, their carriage being towed away to the stables to give the horses a well needed rest. Just as Teagan had asked, he drank from no tart taste lingering liquids within the Taverns and other Inn's he had stayed in along the way. He felt strangely awake, like he was free from some unknowing bonds that had held him back for the last several months. 

With a slight screech, the large wooden doors opened and gave way to the stone castle that laid within. Fergus stood already in the entrance, awaiting the King's arrival with a grin of nothing but hospitality on his lips, for he wasn't exactly fond of the Alistair that had broken his little sister's heart. 

Alistair and his guards approached, the new founded Teyrn of Highever bowing ever so slightly, “Your Highness, I am glad to see your journey was not elongated by any issues.”

Swallowing, the young king smiled awkwardly with the feeling of blood already rushing to his cheeks and ears, “Thank you, Teyrn Fergus. How do you fair this morning?”

“Quite well, thank you. Well, can I get you anything or shall we skip straight to the reason you're here?”

“I would like to see Aurora, as quickly as possible.” He cleared his throat, realizing just how over eager he sounded, “Could you my guards be escorted to their chambers?”

Fergus nodded, beckoning to his own guards who lead the royal trio away. Then he turned back to the King, “If you'll follow me, then, your Highness.” He turned, arms folded behind his back and steps continuing briskly. It seemed the quick and graceful steps Aurora had always held were in fact a family trait, although he did not check out the hide quarters of this Cousland. 

It was easy to imagine Aurora growing up in the Castle, causing chaos with the servants and shooting play arrows through the windows at her elder brother. He knew though that even with all the joyful memories she held for her home, ones as tainted as the Darkspawn blood that migrated through their veins lingered as well. 

Finally they came to what he assumed was the family quarters, a warm place with flowered wall paper and velvety red chairs. He noted the two portraits of the deceased Teyrn and Teyrna, the paintings holding destroyed edges and black splotches that gave the obvious away; someone had attempted to burn them, he couldn't imagine who that had been. 

“If you will wait here for a moment, she was feeling quite ill this morning.” Without further comment he left the King alone to dwell in his own thoughts, disappearing through an entry way. Alistair wiped the sweat from his brow, bouncing on the balls of his feet and praying silently to the Warden. 

Once Fergus came to Aurora's bedroom door, he knocked until he was told he could enter. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, a shawl wrapped tightly around her petite shoulders. Usually she kept her hair braided, especially as he pregnancy progressed and she was constantly sweating. This morning though she kept it down, long and falling over the swell of abdomen. Her gown was a new one, silk and lavender with a flowing texture about it and sleeves that fell over her shoulders Clinched just above her budding womb it made the pregnancy more obvious than it already was, contradicting the narrowness of her waist to what grew within.   
“For once your Zevran is not at your side?”

She smiled softly, looking up to meet her brother's twinkling eyes, “I told him to go for a walk, least he punches the crown off the King.”

“Good point. Well, are you ready?” He drew the last word out, sounding skeptical.

“I've hid for too long,” She stood, still letting the shawl drape her shoulders and slipping into the flats that matched her gown. With a final side glance at herself in the mirror, she smoothed the soft fabric over her stomach with her slender fingers and walked down the hallway without her head held high and face lacking of any leftover fear. Fergus trailed behind her, glad that Alistair already had one child on the way, least his sister decided to decapitate a entirely different head than the one on the King's shoulders. 

In the middle of the living quarters, a tall and broad man as distant as childhood memories stood with his back to her. Donned in expensive leathers and a cloak lined with a thick and white fur that she guessed to be an import of some far away place, he looked so different than the lover she had once shared her life with. In those months apart, she nearly forgot just how menacing he looked when you did not know him. When she had first met Alistair in Ostagar, she had truly felt fear at his menacing size and the large sword decorating his hip; once more, she felt that way.

“Your Highness,” She could not, would not, say his name then and there, the very thought of doing so made her insides burn and her stomach do flip flops that were not from its inhabitant. 

…  
It was the voice that haunted his dreams for what seemed a millennium, soaking in sweetness and an extraterrestrial beauty. His thoughts had been miles deep when she joined him in the room, already her very presence so shockingly obvious it made his knees weak and throat swell with too many apologies and late term “I love you's”. For as long as possible, he elongated the time of his turn with his eyes clenched shut in an effort to further make her stay from his site. Then suddenly he was centered before her, the months of fortifying an impenetrable hatred for her long gone and nothing but wasted time for a man who already was destined to live a very short life. 

He was stunned, eyes the size of the moon and suddenly wishing he had took a bit more time bathing the night before. Those eyes, blue but yet not with the aspect of a night sky that was just about to burst with Summer storm, the full lips painted pink and constantly being bitten down upon in her efforts to control either her tongue or her anxiety. Without thought he scanned her form, the curvaceous and hour glass body he had fantasized about since the very day they met finally reunited before him. When he passed her chest though, something like eating one too many bran muffins hit him at the speed of light. Aurora was pregnant, very pregnant.

“Well this is, this is um, This is,” He stumbled over every word and bit his tongue somewhere in between, “Did I...did I uh, am I the one who did that?”

Aurora's eyes narrowed, “No, the bloody Maker did it, Alistair you idiotic bastard!” Oh, she was not happy, not one bit. Of course he was the one who had done it, that, made her....pregnant.

“Oh, right, I, well of course I was the one who..because we...oh, wow.” He ran a hand through his hair, sputtering out a breath of air, “This, this is most unexpected.”

“Didn't think you would see the woman you proclaimed the Whore Of Ferleden ever again? Or surprised that the babe is yours?” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, it was obvious she was hurt though, lower lip trembling. 

“No, no, I didn't mean it like that! You know how much of a moron I am Aurora, I can barely say a well made sentence and even when I do it just comes out in a that just...” He trailed on, grinning sheepishly with sadness in his eyes.

She sighed, looking away from his with her head bent down and eyes on the floor, “So you don't question our child's paternity?”

“No, not at all. I...I still can't believe this. How? We're not supposed to be able to have children, not even with someone who doesn't have the taint.” He couldn't keep his eyes off her stomach, off what housed his child. The thought of Fatherhood never reached his mind in a positive way, not until today. How could everything be so right, but yet so wrong at the same time?”

“I will explain what I know later. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I was...afraid. I didn't want to face you but I did not want to tell in a letter either. I really did not think you would handle this quite in such an accepting manner. I even have Wynne here, in case you tried to say she wasn't your child.”

“Aurora, I would never do that to you.”

She looked at him then, eyes burning into his skull, “You already have.”

“I suppose I...have, yes,” He sighed, looking down, “At the time, everything just seemed like,” He paused, fighting for words to continue his sentence. 

“Like I had sex with Loghain, I'm well aware, I was after all the one to wake up naked in his bed with markings on my body.” Her words were cold, laced with anger and other things that he knew were eating her up inside, things that always would, “I wish you would have trusted me, Alistair. There was so many things I told you that I had never told anyone before, things that I trusted you with.”

“I let my anger blind me Aurora, and I know that I do not deserve your forgiveness but please know that I will spend every single waking moment of my life trying. I still love you with every part of my being, from the depths of the Fade that we've fought together in and in the very deepest edges of Thedas. I will love you until we go into the Deep Roads to complete our existence as Grey Wardens.” Every word was from his heart, a first time composure that had came out much better than he thought.

She looked doubtful still, lips pressed into a frown and eyebrows arched in a way that could only mean she was drowning herself in thoughts, “I know you desperately need an heir, and I will allow this child to be so. I do not know if I can ever be with you again though Alistair, not right now, even if I do still return your feelings.”

Solemnly the King nodded, stuck between the emotions of his child he never knew existed, the knowledge that Aurora still loved him, and the thought that he may never again be with his rose.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, so I just went through and did a better editing job on this and i guess it is safe to say I really shouldn't write at one in the morning with no contacts in.

The night after being reunited with Alistair, Aurora ate alone in her bedroom with the door locked and the only allowed companion being her war hound. Tears carved down her cheeks, leaving her face red and blotchy, lower lip swollen and irritated from too much self nibbling. She felt like her emotions were water and oil, existing as one but never meeting and constantly clinging to their own internal components. From the time it was set she would be telling Alistair, she was certain a great weight would be lifted from her constantly aching chest and slumped shoulders. Now she only felt more angry though, more hurt and upset at him for reasons she was struggling to put her finger on. While beyond joyful he would accept and love their child, everything still felt out of place and wrong. He believed her now, but so many months later that she still held onto spitefulness, a stabbing thing that made her stomach lurch. 

Forced bites of stew fell upon her tongue, never being tasted but simply being swallowed for the purpose of the little one. Everything felt tasteless in her mouth, nothing but mush that held needed sustenance. She wanted to dual, wanted to rip her daggers out and fight with not her usual graceful rogue stances and mentality but rather with brute force and harsh confrontation. Maker, she wanted to make love and get rid of all the hormones clamoring through her body. How could someone feel frustration in every possible aspect at the same time? Sighing, she handed the rest of the bowl's continents to Dream and stood to undress. Tugging the silk dress over her shoulders, she groaned with an overly loud and dramatic tone to give voice to her irritations when it would not budge over her bust. With a series of tugs and swear words, it was reduced to a pile of lavender fabric on the stone floor that she promptly kicked to the side of her room, “Bloody swollen ankles, blood swollen breasts, bloody swollen everything, and bloody King's with swollen heads!” Those were the words to her war cry as she completely man handled her favorite gown, before sighing and kindly picking the thing up and dropping it on the stool to her vanity. 

Changing into the baggiest nightgown she owned, basically a blanket with sleeves, she sat on the edge of her bed and fell backwards. Baby Therin did not like this sudden jolt of moment however, and nailed its Mother right in the ribs. “Please, at least kick me in the none bone areas!” Aurora groaned, covering her face with her hands and trying not to fall into a messy weeping maiden once more. Quite frankly, she was finding her lack of control over her tears inexplicably annoying and was damn near giving herself a pep talk in the mirror. Emotional, yes, she had always been, but the amount lately was making her ill, she had nearly cried over the new kittens in the castle's stable just the other morn. 

“Rora?” Zevran was knocking on her door, his accented voice fluffy and light as it bounced of the air. She could hear his concern, his never ending worry always leading him back to ensuring she was alright. It wasn't in a clingy nor over bearing way though, he knew when she needed space and when it was time for her to bring herself out from her introverted state and back as a functioning member of society. Slightly struggling to get to her feet, she opened her door and greeted him with a bit of a half smile before returning to her bed.

He chuckled softly, “Your hair is quite possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen,” Closing and locking her door once more, he turned back to the flushed and bedhead wearing woman. She blushed softly, bringing a hand to her hair and fingering the fluffed and tangled locks. Her bath before dinner had been long and done with many herbs Wynne suggested she use in the final months of her pregnancy, as well as lemon scented soap with a dash of vanilla. After an extensive leave in conditioner, applied to her by the maid, she had simply washed her hair clean of any soap residue and climbed under the covers until the same servant returned with supper. Being so that her hair was the thickness of Oghren' beard this left it in a very haphazard state. 

Picking up the brush from her vanity, Zev motioned her to the stool and once she did so softly began making his way through her locks. Leaning against his upper thighs, she closed her eyes contently and fell into the elf's surprisingly deft ability to brush her hair with very slight pulling or any other issues. Having her hair played with had always been her favorite thing, for as long as she could remember she loved the soothing feeling of her tresses and scalp being massaged. He knew this very well, and did it in a way that he dearly hoped would calm the buzzing Mother to be. 

“He wasn't an absolute ass, was he? Because I happen to be nearly as skilled with a dagger as I am with a brush,” Once he assumed she was feeling well enough to talk, he spoke with his question having and over tone of humor but an under of legitimacy.

“Surprisingly, no. Though his face was something behold once he finally got done gawking at my breasts and saw that I was carrying his child.”

“In all fairness, you are quite literally popping out of whatever it is your wearing,” Slightly absent minded, Zevran found himself flirting. 

“Yes, well, it's as painful as it looks. Besides, he couldn't have, I don't know, made damn eye contact with me, for more than five seconds?” 

“While Alistair is greatly intelligent in his own way, he is very...awkward, and idiotic in his own right. While I still await your command to deck him in his empty pocket of a head, perhaps you should give him a bit of time. At least he realizes how wrong he was.”

“I know, I know.” Aurora sighed, playing with the lace on the long sleeves of her nightgown, “It's like half of my sadness from what happened has turned into anger and I just want to smack him. Then hug him, and I just, I just don't bloody know. I hate not being able to dual right now, that worked wonders for when I felt like smashing somebodies face in.” She looked up at him head still lying against him and sighing.

“Hey, you can always punch me in the shoulder if need be.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead while cupping her face. After this he pulled her to her feet, “I really do hate to see you fretting , so might I suggest an early in night where we swap stories? I'll even tell you about the time I went to a whore house that had its very own priestess!”

Laughing, she pulled him to the bed and scooted over to her side, “Fine, enlighten me with your story time facades.”


	17. Chocolate Cake

Freezing water brought Alistair to a jolt, a tingly feeling that spiked through his body and brought goose bumps rising on his flesh. Leaning over the wash basin still, he took in a deep but steady breath of air until his lungs felt comfortable once more. He had always been a constantly over heating individual, so much so that when growing up in the Chantry as a teenager the older boys had teased him about going through “man-opause”. Aurora had said once when curled into his chest on an particularly chilly evening within their shared tent that it was simply because he was so incredibly “hot”. Since she was always freezing, their bodies had always been a perfect combat against each other when they would go to bed. There had been no ice girl cooling his searing flesh for sometime, though.

One thing that incredibly different in the most delicious way about staying in Highever was that he was not constantly stepping in pools of guards, nor cramped into the same dreary castle day after day. This was something was really murdering his senses of “what to do and what to not”, making his curiosity overflowing. Aurora had told him a million different stories about Castle Cousland, some good, some bad, and he was practically itching to explore the area. He knew a library was just around the corner, so he decided to slip from his guest room. Covered only in cotton breeches and leather moccasins he made his way to the place his once loved had claimed to spend half her childhood in. 

With the only light being the far spread oil lamps, placed into stone holders built into the walls, he wondered if what he was seeing was a similar site to the night the castle was taken under siege by Rendon Howe. Did everything look so incredibly calm and serene as tonight, when just behind the corner death and destruction was preparing to knock and say hello? He pushed the thought away, finally coming to the library entry way, the only light a dim and single lamp on a desk in the very center. Thousands of books covered the tall and sturdy shelves, shiny and carved with various things from Ferelden history, some fiction and others not. While the palace was extremely grand and luxurious in its own way, it seemed Castle Cousland had its very own touch, something like family and extra love painted into every corner. 

For a while he walked among the towering literature holders, making a mental note to request borrowing some of the libraries materials. One thing he noticed about the library not long after he entered was two grand wooden doors, made of dark polished wood. A window was in each, giving a view to the late night sky that lingered beyond, for night had long since swallowed any remaining light. With all the silence he could muster in his warrior body, he pushed one of the large oak doors open and stepped into the chilly open skies with nothing but his very skin to protect him from the midnight winds. 

He stood memorized for a moment, looking up into what had to be over a million stars glimmering from their respectable places. The two moons were centered at the middle, Luna much closer and larger, yet Satina gleaming white in its own brightness. Coming to the edge that was protected in a metallic fence, he sat his palms upon the chilly metal and let out a breath that resulted in a swirling cloud sneaking from between his lips. 

“You know, most guests politely stay in their rooms and at nice, as opposed to wandering,” Alistair nearly jumped out of his very skin, turning to face where the voice came from even though already recognized it. Aurora was leaning against the stone wall, standing in the corner with a fur lined blanket wrapped around her body. 

“Maker's breath woman, I nearly jumped off the balcony!” He put a hand to his bare chest, making a slight “phew” noise. 

“Yes well, you always were incredibly easy to scare.”

“Yes well, what can I say, I am talented in various ways.”

She snorted at this, leaning her face once more against the wall and looking back to the stars. Alistair watched her with a strong yearning, glancing to her barely showing pregnant form, hidden under the thick fabric of the blanket. 

“Does...does the baby kick, ever?” 

Her hand fell under the blanket, fingers smoothing over the skin of her belly, “Twenty hours a day, hiccups the other four.” Moving her hand in a clock circle motion, she rubbed slowly over where she could feel the little bounces the infant made whenever it hiccuped. 

“Could I.....feel, it?”

She nodded, stepping closer to him and letting the blanket fall back to rest on her shoulders. Grabbing his hand, she placed it firmly just on the center of her stomach to which just seconds later he was met with the soft yet quake like feeling of a hiccup. A wide grin landscaped his face and without thought he hand another hand, cupping over the moments. Aurora chewed her lip, unable to stop her own smile and letting him get his full feel of their child, it was after all, their very first meeting. 

“Does the little warrior ever sleep?!”

“From eleven in the morning until three in the afternoon, I'm hoping it won't be the same when she decides to make her entrance.”

“She?” He removed his hands, standing tall once more and looking down at her with the most mischievous look upon his face. 

“I'm not sure, of course, it isn't something I could know but..I do think that the baby is a girl. I've...decided to name her Ella.”

“Ella...” He let the name roll of his tongue, “It's beautiful.”

Looking up into her eyes she could feel her control melting away, fingers digging into her palms to keep herself from wrapping her arms around his toned chest. Afraid she would let her eyes fall to look at the well muscled man, she tried to bring up a new subject, “So, being a King and all, don't you have a set bedtime of, oh, I don't know, seven a clock? Because it is quite nearly one in the morning.”

“Hey now, as the King, I am allowed to do as I please.”

“Oh yes, I am sure, does Eamon know about this “law” that allows you this freedom?”

“No, and I would gladly appreciate if you did not tell the old bugger. I could barely get him to stay in Redcliffe, it was like fighting you on putting pants on after two bottles of wine.”

Blushing at his mention of the two of them and no pants, she shook her head, “At least I have an excuse for being without my pants, you lose yours when you're sober.”  
“I warned you from the the get go, me and pants just do not get along.”

“Mhmm, right, well, I can feel my fingers turning blue,” She turned to go back inside but paused, “Wait, you're tall, could you...maybe help me with something?” Looking at him, she cocked her head to one side with the utter most pout on her full lips. 

“Anything,” The words spilled out with no second thoughts, the King lost completely in trance.

“So, there's left over cake on the top shelf, fudge and just, oh Maker,” She moaned, in a manner that he had in fact heart before under completely different circumstances, “But I can't reach it and I don't want to stand on a chair and risk falling off.”

“You? The definition of grace, fall off?” 

“Oh shut up and help me get the damn cake...please?”

“Well since you've asked so nicely, I suppose I will have to oblige.”

Grinning in her conquest, she quickly sped off towards the kitchen with a shocked and nearly running royal at her feet, “Maker's breath, I thought you were pregnant?!” He was quite nearly panting when they reached the kitchen, Aurora already looking up at a very high cupboard. “I'm pregnant, not incarnated, there's a difference.” 

He stood next to her, bare skin brushing against her fingertips as he reached to grab the leftover cake from the top shelf. Aurora sucked on the inside of her cheek, looking at the prominent muscles that lined his back, Maker's breath, and I chastised him for looking at my breast when I am doing the very damn thing! Feeling incredibly glad it was dark and he wouldn't be able to see her flushed cheeks, she silently breathed out and smiled innocently when he turned back to her with the plate in hand. 

“Well, I suppose it would be rude to not ask you to join me?” 

“Although I'm more a cheese man myself, I certainly will not turn down a beautiful lady offering me chocolate cake.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed two plates from a lower shelf and grabbed a cutting knife from the drawer, “Careful, cheese boy.”

He gave her a cheeky grin, setting the cake down and allowing her to slice off two large pieces for the both of them, Aurora using the excuse of pregnancy to her advantage. Sitting at a small table to the left of the grand kitchen, they both ate slowly, savoring the cakes richness. Alistair, as usual, managed to finish first and was waiting on Aurora, “So, you're still a slow eater.”

“Or, you are just still a pig”, 

He considered things for a moment, “Or it could very much be that, too.”


	18. Secrets

For three days heavy snow plastered down on Castle Cousland, thick flakes blockading any view through the glass windows. Every hearth in the castle roared, fighting the cold in a constant battle to give the slightest breath of life to the dwindling warmth. Progressed into the seven month of her pregnancy, Aurora was sitting side ways with her legs swung over a large and deep purple chair. Her Mother would have scolded her for it, telling her that ladies did not sit in such a fashion. She hoped that if she was somehow watching her from the Fade she would understand what a struggle it was just for her to get decently comfortable. 

Fergus was sitting in the chair stationed a few feet away from her own, one leg crossed over the other as he looked through the newest merchant book from the most well known shops in Denerim, “What if I jinx my future supposed nieces gender by purchasing a whole slew of royal soldiers for her to play with?”

“Well, if she is anything like me, she will be the type of child to have an even amount of dolls and soldiers. I think I stole yours from the moment I could walk, ignoring the few I threw in the fire when you ripped my stuffed mabari's ear off.” She smirked, playing with a silver ring that took up dwelling on her left pinkie finger. 

“And then three weeks later when the kennel master announced to Father that the lead female Mabari had pups, what was supposed to be just a hello to the newborns became a “Papa, can I please have one?” To which the poor man couldn't even say no because you got a three week old puppy to imprint on you by visiting him everyday since his day of birth.”

“It isn't my fault he fell in love with me.” A hand moved from atop of her belly, softly stroking Dream's soft head with a tentative finger, “Besides...there was other reasons I begged so desperately for one.” Her tone had become darker, quieter and lacking of the previous warmth and humor it had held. 

Setting the book down on his lap, Fergus looked at her with confusion, “What do you mean? Was there something you were...afraid of here?” Confusion thickly threaded his voice, not knowing what there was to be afraid of in a place he had always regarded as being safe and warm before the massacre.

Taking in a shaky breath, she moved from her lounging position and sat so she was facing him with her legs crossed beneath her heavy skirts, “When I first arrived, I told you there was things I needed to tell you, and just like I did with Alistair, I've been putting it off for as long as I possibly can.”

“Aurora, please, tell me what troubles you so and know that I will love and accept you just as Father and Mother would have.”

Her hands were twisting in the gowns fabric, eyes failing to meet his as she opened her mouth for a moment before closing it. For a moment she simple sat there, trying to get the words out that were so deeply embedded under layers and layers of forced secrecy, “I knew Howe wasn't a good man, before he killed our family.” It hurt so say it, to acknowledge something she was quite sure she could ever forgive herself for. 

“How could have possibly known?” He scooted his chair closer to her, talking softly in a comforting tone.

“Do you remember how Father would always hold celebrations for our birthdays, and every time he would always invite Howe and his family? And all the other noble families, King Maric and Queen Rowen when she was alive, Callian, the whole lot?” Once Fergus nodded, she continued, “On my thirteenth birthday, everything was an even bigger celebration that the other ones, because this was destining me into becoming a lady, a future high ranking noblewoman. I was becoming close to the age of eligibility to marry, and Mother and the servants spent hours fussing and fawning over my appearance. I was bound into a corset, covered in lace and silk, and had the newest Orlesian cosmetics applied. I think it was then that I permanently dropped my former days of acting boyish and refusing the wear skirts, I stopped my sword practice in public, I was firm on becoming the woman our parents wanted. Once I entered the ballroom I felt so...different than I ever had before, like I was officially exiting the pathway of childhood. The scowl Anora gave me when she saw me, it set me up for a grin that lasted all evening. Right away, I noticed how Howe kept staring at me, with this unkind glare that made me question if I had offended him somehow. He wouldn't allow Nathaniel to dance with me, or Delilah and I to talk to one another even. Whenever Father was around he would immediately drop the scowl and stop staring at me, giving a warm smile and congratulating me officially becoming a lady. Finally I begin to ignore it, dancing with Rowen and even sharing a kiss with him when we snuck off to the library balcony.” She smiled sadly at this, dearly missing her redheaded best friend, “Then at midnight the celebration was over and I was half asleep, helped out of all the laces and layers of fabric and in a bath of soapy water, cleaned from any lingering lip coloring and rouge. Immediately after getting into bed that night I was out, soundly asleep with the most content of feelings. “ 

Pausing, she took a long breath and closed her eyes, “Not long later I was awoken by a knock on my door, which I didn't necessarily find shocking; Delilah and I often had secret sleep overs when she stayed here. When I opened my door though, no one was there, so I ventured out in the hallway to see if perhaps I had taken to long and whoever it was was on their way back to their room. It was dark though, before we had the lamps, and all the candes had been put out. I was peering through the door to out family quarters when a hand clamped over my mouth, without a second thought I bit down and managed to get the man off, but I didn't scream. My thought process was that it was dark, and I knew how to blend into the dark, making any unnecessary noise would simply make me easier to find,” Hanging her head sorrow filled her face, “A stupid, stupid mistake. I was going past my room, almost to safety, when the person found me and pulled me into my bedroom, latching the door and for the first time came into the light. I was shocked to discover it was Howe, Maker, I was certain I was just having a nightmare from being afraid he was angered with me earlier. No matter how many times I blinked though, I wouldn't wake up, I couldn't escape; I was trapped in my own home. He told me that from the moment he saw me descending the ballroom stairs he knew he couldn't control himself from me, that he wanted me, needed me.” Aurora wouldn't look up to meet her brothers eyes, her nails digging into her leg as she continued, “He told me I created his lust, that it was my own fault, and that if I ever breathed a word to my Father he would tell the entire country that I was a harlot, the great Bryce Cousland's daughter was a whore. I would be a failure to our lineage, the fall of our Father's dynasty. So as the foolish child I was, I kept quiet while he constantly dangled my chastity above me and threatened me with his words for years. The next morning I pretended to be sick, something that was easy to pass off from my sickly state.” Finally, she looked up at him, “Fergus, I killed our parents, your wife and son, and every honest good working man and woman that served under our seal. I am the reason this castle fell and was taken under siege, all because I was afraid to tell our parents.” Her voice cracked but she did not cry, for it was something she believed with every part of her internal being, “You should send me way and have me stripped of my name and titles.” Harshly she laughed, letting her face fall into her hands with her fingers digging into her scalp.

Fergus was frozen for a moment, his entire body pulsating with even more anger for Howe, when already he thought he could hate the man no more. Taking his sisters wrists, he pulled them from her face and held her hands tightly clasped in his, “Aurora, look at me.” Without hesitation she did so, shame painting her face more brilliantly than an Orlesian mask, “You are not the reason for Howe's treachery, you were another victim that fell upon it. Any noble raised young girl would have felt the same fear, for Maker's sake, you were a mere child. How could anyone expect a child to not be afraid of this, this absolute piece of shit bastard? Even now, you are barely into your twenty first year. You are a great and respectful young woman Aurora, you brought down the murderer of our family, you saved our country, and now you continue our own legacy as well as the Therin's with your child. Please, do not hurt yourself any further with these things, I beg of you. Father and Mother would not have blamed you, no one would, you can not continue to hold this entire world upon your shoulders. You may be the strongest person I know, but you're going to break yourself a part.”

“If I had told them though Fergus, if I had told Mother right away that morning when she knew, Maker, she always knew when something was wrong with one of us,” Tears fell down her cheeks, eyes wide and breaths quick with jumping hiccups, “He would never have hurt them. I could have saved them, I could have saved every one of them, and you can not deny that, no matter how many people I save I can not atone myself for the ones I have lost. I see little Oren still in my dreams, playing with his cousin, and Mother and Father will happy smiles as they hold my child in their arms. Then when I awake, everything hurts from knowing it can not possibly ever be. I have stolen my own future, but more importantly, I have stolen those of your own and so many more.”

“Aurora, do you truly think he would not have attacked had you told? This man was corrupted and was as deeply involved with the dark parts of Ferelden as an evil noble can be. Even if you had told Father, he would have managed to attack us, regardless if it was through another or not, he was set on destroying us. He has not though, all because you ensured he did not. He is dead and never again will he take up arms against us or any one we love, do not allow him to harm you even when he lies rotting beneath the dirt. Never again will anyone speak kindly of the Howe name, not for generations and generations to come; he will forever be known as the slaughterer.”

“I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for it, Fergus,” She whispered softly, looking at him with her sullen eyes, “I feel I am better off getting used to the feeling of guilt than ridding myself of it.”

“Then I suppose we will have to help you get rid of it. Happiness can be found, Aurora, look to this child and tell me that you have no created something of greatness.”

Resting her hands upon her stomach, she laid back into the chair with the slight relaxation of releasing yet another one of her large and heavily hidden secrets. Finding relief in the fact that her brother did not hate her, even if she still felt sadness over the matter, she looked into the dancing flames of the fire and made an eternal promise to better herself, for not only her own well being, but for her child as well.


	19. Complications

Returning his finished book from the library, Alistair stiffed his yawn as he began to once more scan the teeming and dusty shelves. With the winter storms, there was no chance he would be returning to Denerim anytime soon, and everything in Castle Cousland was quiet with an eternal warmth and late night hot chocolate. It was a break he had been desperately in need of, a new found peace that made him feel once more like he was simply "Alistair" and not some royal bastard who had to be thrown on the throne because of the half Therin blood that flowed in his veins.

While he and Aurora did not speak nearly as much as he wished, the occasional site of her did bring a certain joy to him. Usually she was with Zevran, discussing a book or pulling the elf to the courtyard to make a snowman with her. Although he too greatly wanted to make snowmen, he knew that pushing himself into her life would only make her more upset with him than she already was. Often he found himself clinging to the memory of the night they both shared cake in the larder, how breathtakingly gorgeous she had looked from atop the balcony in the midnight light of the moons. While he did hear her occasionally complain that she looked like, "a bronto and a broodmother hybrid", it was obvious she was the only one who thought that. While her pregnancy was prominent, she was all stomach, one couldn't even tell she was expecting if they were facing her back. Of course, he would think she were beautiful if she had the face of Flemeth, which really, was saying something.

"Ah, so there's the fabled Warden King," Wynne was at a desk that faced one of the large windows, three different books sprawled over the oaken surface and spectacles resting on her nose, "It is about time you visited your favorite mage."

"Wynne!" He went to go to her but ended up knocking several books over, to which he hastily shoved back in the shelf and pulled up a chair to her desk, "I've been looking for you since I first arrived!"

"I would certainly hope so, I am after all, looking after your developing child."

"Speaking of which, is it...is the baby normal? I mean, this pregnancy was just about as unexpected as me becoming King. While it is no doubt one of the greatest things to ever happen to me, I am still a bit shocked, to put it lightly."

"One of the healthiest pregnancies I've ever seen. From what I can tell the child is above in the growth chart, going by the measurements of Aurora's abdomen. It will not be too long until the little Princess makes her debut into the world, of that I have no doubt, perhaps five more weeks."

He thought about this for a moment, just a little over a month and he would no longer be King Alistair, he would also be a Father, although he secretly preferred "Papa", "So the child carries no taint, nothing?" While the King truly was trying to convince himself everything was perfectly alright with the child, he found himself holding onto the fact that nothing ever seemed to go quite so smoothly for either him or Aurora.

"No taint in the child or the Mother, there is no indication Aurora was ever a Warden."

"She...no longer carries the taint?" Hope began to grow in his chest, exhibiting a comforting warmth.

"Nope, while she still retains her Grey Warden abilities, the taint is completely gone. While she is rather adamant and stubborn about figuring out what it is, I am not allowing her to leave this Castle until the child is at least six months. Of course, we can send other search parties out before this, but she is in no state to go marching off into battle. Although, we do have a few...thoughts about what exactly might have cured her."

"Like?" Alistair had never heard about the saying, "curiosity killed the cat", so he was going to keep pushing until he knew every tidbit of information. In all fairness, it was something that could extent his life and no longer leave him under the promise of a possibly thirty years.

"Well...I'd say a month or two before the the conception of your child, we found the ashes to heal the Arl. The Ashes Of Andraste can supposedly heal anyone, of anything, and the only one in our group to touch the ashes is now impossibly pregnant."

Wide eyed, he put a hand over his mouth and leaned onto his elbow, "How did we never think of that?!"

"You two were pretty set on thinking about the world at the time, not yourself." Wynne smiled softly, "Don't get your hopes up too much, remember, as of right now this is simply a speculation. It is, however, the best one we have though and it does truly make sense. Aurora has already sent out parties to seek out more of the ashes, but because they are protected by the gauntlet, she is doubtful anyone but the two of you will be able to access it."

"Well, in all fairness, they won't have any crazed dragon cult to fight through this time."

"Yes, but there are still the spirits, besides, I do not think she really trusts anyone with your life besides yourself. While she is no doubt angered with you, it is obvious she still cares for you deeply. I see it in the secret glances she steals at you when you are not looking, even if she is entwined deeply in her friendship with Alistair."

"So...do you ever think we will be together once more, with her as the Queen Of Ferelden?"

"In time, yes, I do believe you will once more be together." Before she could continue any further, they were interrupted by a female servant who looked gravely worried, "Healer Wynne, the Teyrna is having contractions."

"Contractions?" The mage stood suddenly, "How long ago did they start?" instantly she was making her way to the servant, leaving Alistair confused and fearful at the desk.

"Just now, she was rising from her bed when she nearly collapsed from the sharp pain. She does not believe it to be the ones that are expected with the final months of pregnancy, they're too strong." Then she was turning, hurriedly leading Wynne and a trailing Alistair along to Aurora's chambers. It felt like it took an eternity, the young King's heart pulsing hard beneath his chest.

Zevran was holding her hand tightly, leaning over the bed and whispering things that were not audible to the new individuals entering the room. She lacked any color from her face, a dampness that was recognizable as sweat forming on her skin. When she saw Wynne she perked up a bit, trying to sit up but wincing and letting out a strangled noise, one of obvious pain. "It's too early to be in labor, I'm not far enough along yet."

Instantly the healer was on her, resting her hands upon her stomach and in a trance that could not be broken. The silence that fell on them during this time was choking, Alistair holding his breath and fighting to not go to her side.  
"There is a possibility you could be further along then we previously thought, but not by enough to render you in the ninth month. How far apart are the pains?"

"Every other minute," She spoke breathlessly, "My stomach clenches with every one."

"I'm sending no distress from within, the child as well as your own heartbeat is normal, Still, you should not be going into labor this early, have you been doing any vigorous acts lately? Dueling, running, sex?" It all sounded natural to her, like she was asking about how the woman's midday nap had been and not what personal acts she did behind closed doors.

"What?! No, no of course not." Aurora was cherry red by then, glancing between Alistair and Zevran, "No sex, no dueling, no running, nothing you've told me to avoid. I go for walks around the courtyard daily as you have suggested but nothing more."

With a final sigh, Wynne looked at the others, "I need you all to leave, quickly, unless Aurora there is someone you feel comfortable having in the room."

Sensing that what was to come would probably involve a lack of pants, the young woman chewed her lower lip for a moment before still holding tightly to Zevran's hand, "Just Zev," She said it quietly, not making eye contact with Alistair as he, the Father of her child, was forced to exit the room.


	20. Clay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I've thought about this back and forth constantly the last few days and the thing is, I just didn't like how the original chapter twenty panned out. I was so eager and exited to throw Alistair and Aurora back together, everything just happened too fast. When someone you love hurts you, you don't just forget about it and turn around and let them back into your life without a second thought, not a healthy relationship, anyhow. So I've rewritten this chapter, if that upsets you I truly am sorry, but while the concepts of this story do belong to Bioware, I am still the author of Aurora's journey. Also, this is my very first fanfiction, which maybe is just an excuse I'm using to make myself feel better, but...yeah. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the rewritten bit of this story. It's obvious now who I do eventually plan for her to end up with, even though it was something I struggled with for sometime. Thank you for taking the time to read this note and for being a reader of Tarnished Legacy, even when I have to redo things from time to time.

The cough erupted from her throat, sharp and painful when it pricked the outside of her chest and ran its fingertips down the inside of her ribs. It was the third hour of the waves that were constantly crashing over her being, not smoothing her edges but rather making her more rugged with each crashing fleet. Site was gone, her eyes no longer able to make a clear connection to her brain and turning the world around her to dust covered antiques. Sometimes she would pick up words when the ringing in her ears would dim, allowing the softest bits of idiom to find a pathway through the small and seldom occurring cracks. 

Memories would wander through her mind, some buried and others forget but each one painful and rusted in its own way. Mother would pull her to her lap, Father would lift her to his shoulders, Fergus would trip her in the library. Emerged in her own conscious, she would find herself sitting in the middle of the Fade with her knees pulled to her childless womb and shivering from a chill that she could not even feel. When she would look at her hands, the fingertips would be turning blue with frostbite crawling up her flesh with a belligerent parade. Then she would scream, a sound that would penetrate the air and break through sky, but when it as over it was as if it never happened. 

“Aurora,” It was a whisper and a yell at the same time, sending her head snapping up and eyes wide and sprinkled in blue veins. Several feet ahead of her a figure stood, a blur of ink black with no definite mass nor form. Clumsily, she stood with a hand pushing herself up from the texture lacking ground and she stepped forward towards the thing calling her name, “Demon,” slurring, she pointed a finger at it, “Get out of my head.” Then the slurring stopped, the five words as clear as a summer sun. 

It cackled, the foggy mess of spiritual existence rumbling with each harsh and rickety noise, “Shhh,” then it was all around her, drowning her in a liquid that tampered with her insides and dripped into her lungs. Air would not come, clamoring down her throat but hitting a block along the way. The thing was inside her, molding to her internal structure and mending itself with every nook and cranny of her soul. Every single feeling stunk of familiarity and held a consistency saturated in deja vu, an experience she was certain she had felt once before. 

Eyelids crumbling she succumbed to a defeat of mentality, losing herself somewhere in a facade between the living and the dead. A final breath of air fell from her lips, a black wisp that only existed for a quick moment before finding its end. For a moment, the soul that belonged to her but yet was not here took a moment to adjust, looking at the frozen blue veins that were refurbished in black. Then it grinned, putting its arms out wide and tilting its head back, before falling back and straight through the ground of the Fade. 

…  
Wynne was sitting in a chair pulled close to Aurora's bed, watching the girl twist and turn and occasionally call out slight and soft words. For nearly an entire day she watched her suffer, constantly falling from consciousness only to resurface for moments at a time. Fevers would scorch her skin before crashing, plunging her internal temperature so cold her whole body would erupt in shivers. After convincing Zevran to leave and take a walk around the courtyard, it was only the three of them, a child yet to be born and a Mother who's perfect pregnancy had staggered into an unknown conundrum. 

Sitting up like her entire body had been propelled forward, Aurora's eyes opened in a wide and vast expression that left her lips apart and a deep gust of air traveling down her throat in an attempt to catch her breath. Looking at her wrists with shaking limbs, she let out a gasping sigh of relief before finding her stomach and searching for the roundness of life she had grown so accustomed to. When she found it it was like she collapsed, breaking into a sob and hugging the home of her growing child. 

“Aurora!” Wynne was at her side, a hand on her shoulder and in complete shock at the way the she had sprung to life from hours of illness, taking in such a breath of air it was as if she had been drowning before hand. 

“It was inside me,” Her word were raspy, throat dry and tampered with by crowded emotions, “It was in my body, in my soul.”

“What are you talking about, dear girl? Did you have a nightmare?” The mage was trying to make sense of everything, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. 

“No, it wasn't a nightmare. It was real, in the Fade, I could feel it fusing to me,” She looked at Wynne, dark circles under her eyes and fear scrawled into her iris, “It crawled through my throat, like some kind of permanent ink for my insides.” 

“You've been sick for the last twenty hours Aurora, you're ill, you have a fever, delusions are normal,” She helped her to lay back further, putting the back of her hand against her forehead and applying a cool pressure. 

“Wynne, a demon wants my baby, they want her,” Staring up at the mage she begged her to believe her, trying to prove the truth to her words, “I've encountered enough things to recognize a demon. They're going to take her, they're going to take my baby!” Then she was yelling, frantic and weeping with a constant cling to her extending abdomen, “You can't let them take my baby, promise me you won't.”

“I won't let anyone take your baby, Aurora. No one is going to lay a hand on her, I promise,” She tried to be as comforting as possible, constantly stroking her hair and using every calming spell she could think of to try to the soothe the mother to be.

“They'll find me if I sleep,” Her voice was far off, clinging to the edge of consciousness, “She isn't safe while she's in me.”

“I promise you won't go to the Fade while you sleep now, you will not dream, no one can get in.” The words seemed to finally settle her, eyelids fluttering a handful of times before finally closing and her chest falling and rising into a gentle pace. Wynne stood from the door, finding a still awake Alistair sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Once he saw her he immediately stood at the fastest rate he had in his entire life, “Is she alright? Is the baby alright?”

“For the time being, they are both fine.” 

“The time being? For how long is “the time being”?” His voice became louder, near yelling as panic crept into him. 

“Alistair, she thinks she's being possessed when she's in the Fade, that someone wants the child.” 

He growled, flushing with anger, “That bastard! I should have had his head sliced off when I had the chance.” For a moment he fumed, before calming himself down enough to continue speaking to Wynne, “I have a mage in the dungeons of the palace, a blood mage, who made a confession to possessing Aurora to get her into Loghains bed. I intended to get more information out of him before we had him tried and killed for his crimes, he was guarded by Templars, I thought it would be safe, he has no access to blood.”

“You didn't tell her she was possessed before this? You've been at the castle for weeks! Maker, you could have at the very least told me!”

“I've been trying to tell her but the woman can barely stand being in the same room as me for an hour, she wouldn't even let me in the room when she thought something was wrong with our child!”

“That is a conversation for another time, Alistair. For now you need to tell me everything you know about this blood mage, right this instance.” With a sigh he nodded, running a hand through his hair.


	21. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I changed chapter twenty. I'm sorry for my absence, my life is packed currently so I will update as much as possible. Thank you, xoxo.

Laying on her side, Aurora stared blankly ahead of her with a dull expression and thoughtless mind. Bed rest left her moody and sleep made her anxious, the final result a canvas painted in dark circles and raspy breaths. Everything possible was done to bring her stress levels down, to put her in a comfortable place that wouldn't leave her constantly on the edge; she moved to one of the guest rooms, away from any painful childhood memories, Wynne always sat with her when she slept, Alistair promised to use everything he had learned from his Templar training to help keep her safe and was doing his best to get word to Denerim. His lack of telling her about how he knew she had been possessed once before left her irritated and upset with him, but it wasn't as if she had given him the time of day to really explain so she tried her best to let it slide. 

“Aurora,” It was his voice that cut through her mental fog, soft and drizzly like fresh maple syrup, “Is it alright if I sit with you?” He was so nervous, the same young man that had once blushed just from brushing against in her in a time that was so very close but yet so far away. 

“Yes,” She spoke softly, “I can't promise to be a very good conservationist, however.” 

When he came into view sitting in the chair Wynne typically did, he smiled grimly and met her eyes with a sad expression, “I'm sure I can come up with something to keep us talking.”

“Enlighten me, then.” It came out more nasty than she truly had meant it, overly sarcastic and a bit Morrigan like, but she wasn't sure how to apologize for it. 

Pursing her lips he glanced away, a blush creeping up his face, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I wasn't sure how to approach you and every time we were together it just seemed so wrong...”

She nodded, pulling her blanket further up and letting her eyelids fall, “I wasn't exactly keen on speaking with you, so hold back the apologies, please, I have a headache and an overly guilty conscious.”

“Oh...I'm sorry, I can go if you would like to sleep?” He began to rise from his seat but was quickly ushered to sit back down.

“No, it just feels good to rest my eyes.” Slowly blinking back into the light, she looked up at him. 

“Once you go into labor, can I be in the room with you?” He spoke quickly, like it took all his effort to get the words out. 

“Yes.” She spoke it simply, straight to the point. 

“Oh, thank the Maker, I thought I was going to be pacing for hours again.”

“You'll be pacing no matter where you are.”

“Fair enough.”

“Alistair, if something happens to be in childbirth, you have to promise to heal yourself with Andraste's ashes and raise our child.” Her mood seemed to change, gaze so intense on him he felt like he was being drenched in the thunderstorm that was her eyes.

“Aurora, you're not going to die having this baby.” He was trying to sound reassuring, to be there for her in a way the one who fathered her child should but he was sharply cut off.

“You do not know that and I will not die knowing that my child may have to watch her only parent succumb to the taint. Swear to me you will take Zevran, Wynne, your most promised and trusted friends and soldiers, and you will heal yourself. You will protect this child and never let the harm that came to the both of us come to her, please, Alistair.” She kept on the stern voice but was still begging, pleading for him to take in what could be her possible last wish and assure her that he would make it happen. 

“I swear to you that I will heal myself and protect our baby,” With his words she seemed to relax a bit, figure relaxing under the tightly pulled blanket. 

“How long before your letter will arrive?'

“Depending on the weather, perhaps a few weeks yet.”

“She'll be here in a few weeks.” 

“Aurora, I know I've failed you once, but please, I promise you that nothing will happen to the either of you. I won't let anyone harm our baby or you. I would give my life for you both.” 

“You're one of the bravest and most heroic men I know Alistair, but I don't think even you can save everyone from everything. This isn't like anything we've ever seen before, and we've seen some shit,” She let out a strangled laugh, edging towards tears but not quite collapsing that far, “We aren't even prepared to deal with this because we have no idea how to.”

“We have vanquished every impossibility we have faced before, this one will be no different.”

By her face it was obvious she wasn't quite sure of it, but for once she didn't argue further and simply nodded, “If I sleep, will you sit with me until I wake up?” Even in their fragile relationship she still craved his presence, even if she wasn't quite ready to admit it.

“I'd sit with you forever.”


	22. Give It A Shot

Stepping over the heavily armored Templar corpses, Aeden wiped his heavily blood stained hands on his robe and carefully stepped over them. He had managed to turn the two men to mere piles of flesh, no longer the recognizable human beings they once were. Continuing on the hallway he walked for about ten feet, then paused in front of what seemed to be a completely random place at the wall. Making a slight motion with his hands, the bricks crumbled and gave way to a deep and completely void of light tunnel, seeming stretching on for miles. Going through the opening, the bricks rebuilt themselves and completely hid how the prisoner how had escaped. 

It seemed the tunnel had been dug perfectly, no indication that it would cave in and put the elderly man in a final embrace of the earth. Continuing on, his pace while seeming normal to him would actually execrate miles at a time in order to speed up the process of getting him to his destination. Every time he made it ten feet or so the earth behind him would crumble, hiding any remnants of the tunnel. It looked like a orb was speeding through the darkness, his body encircled in a blueish tone that kept him secured and safe from inhaling any debris. 

Twenty minutes later he stopped, coming before a stone wall with century old carvings that all lined up to a carved circle at the center. Holding his hand up and letting the fabric of the robe fall down over his elbow, he removed a dagger that he had nabbed from one of the Templars and had stayed sanctioned into his pocket. Sliding the metallic blade over the fleshiest bit of his palm, scarlet liquid began teeming out and he pressed his open flesh into the hallow place of the wall. Within seconds it all glowed, a humming noise coming from the blockade and then it dissolving completely into thin air. 

Entering the room the wall healed itself, hiding the entrance and leaving behind only a completely bendable wall. The underground building seemed utterly ancient, although it lacked any hint of dust besides the various rusted tools and grayed bottles with their unknown liquids. Removing two bottles filled to the brim with Templar blood from his pocket and placing them upon a shelf decorated in an array of other blood filled containers, he then called out for his eldest son.

Samson soon joined his Father from his personal quarters, “Father! You've returned.”

“I've recently possessed the carrier of our possible, although she managed to spot me, somehow,” He was obvious irritated by this, “I didn't think it would be wise to dwindle within the dungeons any longer. It will be hours before they discover by departure and the chances of them finding out how escaped are none. The weather will not allow any communication between the King and the Palace for at the very least two weeks, so I'd say this is the best time for us to strike.”

“For me and Samuel?”

“Yes, for you and your brother to officially prove your alliance with the Tevinter Imperium.”

“I will not disappoint you, Father, I promise you of that.”

“You are not the one I worry about, Samson. You have passed every single milestone I have given you with ease. Your brother on the other hand...” He continued on, letting the words slide into oblivion and setting his lips into a thin white line, “If he gets in the way of this plan, you will need to execute him before he causes its downfall.”

“You...want me to kill him, if he can not prove his worth?”

“Yes. He is already following in his Mother's footsteps, and if we can not remove him from that pathway we can not entrust him with anything else. While it's shame we could not save one of our bloodline, there is more and we will make up for his extraction. I trust you, you are my eldest, and the strongest of my children. You can do this, Samson, I have complete belief in you.”

“I understand what I am to do.”

Aiden placed his hand on his son's shoulder, “I've brought fresh blood, I suggest you practice, for you will be making the journey in three days.” Then he was off, leaving into a separate room and leaving Samson to drown in his own thoughts. 

…  
Aurora had convinced Wynne to let her lounge in the library, curled up on a velvet couch and reading through various books. They were stacked up on a nearby table, the lights reflecting off their smooth and polished covers while others were so old they held no outer luster. Sitting at the edge of the couch was Alistair, massaging the swollen ankles of the woman carrying his child. When he had first offered she seemed unsure, but after finally convincing her to just let him try she soon found herself melting into his hands. 

“You use to get like this after we'd spend all day on the road, all those months ago.” He said it absent minded, running a pressured thumb over her soft skin. 

“I don't think it was quite this bad,” She sat her book on her lap, look over at him and bringing a hand to her mouth in attempt to stifle a yawn. 

“I could carry you to your room, if you would like.”

Pausing for a moment she nodded, “Please,” She said it in almost a pouting way, the broad man releasing her ankles and standing to scoop her into his arms. For a moment she was self conscious about her newly gained weight when she began to rise into the air, but Alistair showed no signs of struggle and simply continued to her room. 

“You're warm,” She laid her head against his chest, shivering beneath her shawl and dress. 

“Or you're just cold.” Once he came into her bedroom he lightly set her down on the bed, pulling the blankets over her. Before he could move his hands too far she softly took them, moving the covers off her stomach and placing them just over the very top. “When you feel something move, press down lightly, she'll kick back.” He waited for a few moments, then felt the slightest little thing move against his hand. Softly pressing a finger against it, what he assumed was a foot moved back against him. He grinned, “Already as strong as any warrior.”

Aurora smiled softly, adjusting the blankets once he removed his hands, “Will you stay in here with me? Until Wynne comes, at least.”

“It isn't if I'm particularly busy, you know, I can stay in here all day if you'd like,” He could feel his heart beat accelerate, holding his breath in case his offer was denied. 

“Well, I'm not really the easiest person to be around for many hours.” She brushed her fingers through some of her hair, working the thick strands into a single braid at the side of her head.  
“I wouldn't say that...”

“Righttttt, just like you wouldn't say you have a slight obsession with your hair.” 

He glanced back at the mirror, brushing back a few sticking up strands. 

Aurora continued, “At any rate, I would like to apologize. I know you're trying to improve things and I haven't made it easy on you. I struggle with being hurt about you not believing me about what happened, but I can't say I don't understand you're side of the situation. I can't just immediately go back to what we once had, but...I'm willing to give it a shot, at starting from the beginning, if you are.”

“A beginning with you is always worth it.”


	23. Slumber

It was late in the castle, the snow coming in such heavy amounts that outside was simply an ominous painting of white. Castle Cousland appeared asleep, silently biding its time until the unforgiving weather would let up and allow the sun out of bondage once more. Most of its inhabitants were in a deep slumber themselves, shuffled under heavy blankets and rooms washed over in heavy shadows of the fireplace light. 

Guards were scattered about, especially in the sanctioned space just outside Aurora's door, for fear that her constant nightmares would soon become a reality. Inside the walls she slept, adept with exhaustion and contractions that seemed to arrive in greater multitudes each evening. While she herself was rolled under her side, the only position that held any comfort to her in the ninth month, Alistair sat beside her. Boots leaning against the bed frame, his wool sock covered laying over the heavy quilts. His head was tipped back, resting against the wall and his left hand resting on the soon-to-be-Mother's hip, a comforting sense to the both of them that each was near enough to touch. 

Consciousness would uptake him for several minutes at a time before he would find his eyelids drooping and his mind falling into sleep. He was well aware of the readily available soldiers who would fight for his lovers life should any ill willed individuals showed up, but the thought of letting himself fall into a state that would render him unknowing of her current state left him in the preference of keeping himself awake. So he fought through every heavily coated wave of itchy and stinging exhaustion, always glancing at the single window in the room and looking her over for any signs of distress. Dream would occasionally look at him in wonder, ready for the command to attack anything that seemed eligible to put his Mistress in danger. The broad war hounds own spot was at the very end of the thankfully large bed, his own blanket tucked around him at the curtsy of Aurora. 

“What are you going to do when you're no longer the only baby int his family?” Alistair spoke quietly, looking into the large brown eyes of the intelligent animal. 

He gave a pitiful whimper, looking at his blanket with the sewn in shapes of dogs, a special gift from the late Eleanor Cousland on his first birthday. Aurora had insisted they have a little birthday celebration for the flourishing pup, even begging Nan to make him a cake consisting of layers of meat.

The King chuckled, giving the dog a soft pet with the bottom of his foot, “It just means you'll be a big brother now, which isn't so bad. Besides, just wait tell it gets a bit older, than you'll be getting more scraps than you've ever known before.”

This seemed to perk the hound up a bit, who gave a drool ridden lick to his chops. A soft knock at the door brought both of their heads up, Wynne entering quietly, “How is she?”

“She's been asleep the last three hours.” He looked at the Mother of his child, removing his hand from her hip momentary and tucking a strand of her wild hair back, “She actually seems to be getting a good rest, for once.”

“We should thank the Maker for that. What about the contractions?”

“Only one every few hours or so, nothing serious yet. Aurora's convinced the child doesn't want to come out and is going to take refuge in her until the snow stops.”

She smiled, “Well, perhaps little Ella will decide to grace us with her presence soon. Just because you're not the one with child doesn't mean you should not sleep, as well. In a few days your nights are going to be full of crying and diaper changing.”

“Yes, I know,” He sighed, “But I don't want anything to happen while I'm not awake. I can't get word to the Arl to put Aeden to death, I find myself worrying hourly that he may have escaped or have others out there, looking for her.”

“You've always been incredibly protective.”

“Can you blame me? The things I know about her...I couldn't save her from them, but I'll be damned if I let anything else happen while I'm by her side. To either of them.” His eyes wavered to her stomach. A mere outline under the thick blanket. 

“I know, child, I know. We're all here to keep her safe as well, Fergus is sleeping about as little as you, and Zevran is constantly asking me if she's alright, if the child's alright. We've all had our hearts captured by the girl, in one way or another, probably from the first day we set eyes on her.”

“The Heir Of Nothing, she use to call herself, but yet even when she didn't hold a title to her name...she was everything.”

“You both are something incredible to behold.”

“The Bastard Prince and The Heir Of Nothing, sounds like something out of an adventure book.”

“Alistair, your story is quite literally an adventure book. I mean, you killed a dragon for Maker's sake.”

“She killed a dragon, I simply helped wound it.”

Wynne rolled her eyes, “Oh you just simply wounded a scaled beast with the soul of an ancient god, yes, sure, nothing at all. You may as well had just simply wiped your arse while in the loo.”

“Now you're just being mean.” He made a little pout of a face.

“Goodnight, King Alistair,” With that she left, turning out the lamp as she did so, “And sleep, or I will hex you.”

“Goodnight, Wynne,” He smiled. Once she left he let himself crawl under the covers, scooting softly over to Aurora. There he wrapped a strong arm around her, just resting atop the swell of her womb, then allowed himself to fall into a much needed slumber.


	24. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope the new year is treating you all well. 2017 decided for me that it would be fun to kill my internet, and then my internet provider took weeks to finally come over and fix the problem. I am back, however, and finally defeated the writers block that was killing me. I rewrote this chapter, because it was rushed and really didn't have much to it. I felt bad for not updating and just wanted to give out something. Anyway, this has been sitting in my writing folder for over a week waiting to be posted. I hope it's better than the original. xxx

It was cold but so hot, like she was stepping on coals and wearing a dress made of frostbite all at the same time. Her limbs moved, her feet took steps and her legs ascended in long strides but she could see nor control anything. It was obvious her eyelids were shut, or she was certain she would feel the harsh winter winds just as she felt them ignite shivering chills up and down her spine. Each inch of her shook, her body desperate for warmth and being clawed down by hypothermia. 

Her mind was over flowing with so many different thoughts, the last thing of her body that she still held some control over. She hoped desperately that it was a dream, that in a moment's time she would wake up and be safe in Alistair's warmth. Her last memory was of sleeping in his arms, held so closely in safety and feeling for the very first time like she was truly at home. It was obvious though that that was not the case, and so she was stuck in the back of her mind, like some kind of internal prisoner. 

She knew they would strike, they all did, and they had prepared in every likeness they could think of. It had not been enough, however, and they had underestimated the intelligence of men who played in arts as old as time and just as deadly. Alistair's presence had not been enough, even with his Templar training, or Zevran's constant watch on the castle nor the number of twenty guards that lined the wall just outside her door. Wynne had planted protection after protection spell, until her mana was drained and she nearly fainted. 

How had she managed to let someone slip into her mind so easily, when her entire life had been built on internal control and mental training? This time there had been no dream of being possessed, there had been nothing but calm silence and deep slumber. It was worse, having no warning, being absolutely clueless to what was to come. The infant in her womb shifted, no longer the tiny flutter that could barely be felt but a fully developed babe that would make its entrance at any given moment. 

She would fight them for her child, with every ounce of her mentality and the strength she had in her. Aurora Cousland had survived her family's slaughter, demon's sent straight from the Fade, things that should have destroyed her, but did not. A blood mage would be no different, no matter how many there was, they would not harm her baby, they would not have her greatest pride and joy in life. 

….  
Alistair groaned as he came awake, heavily sedated under too many months of sleepless nights and late night binge drinking, not to mention constantly worrying about his lover's well being. Finally finding the strength to open his eyes, he found himself making eye contact with an empty stone wall instead of her. Slowly he turned his broad body, in a soft and genuine effort to not wake her, lest she had finally found some resolve against the constant flow of contractions. Instead of seeing her though, he found nothing but a ruffled pillow and empty space. He moved his hand over the place her body had once been, finding no warmth where typically her feverous heat would trail behind her had she only been gone for a few moments. Dream too was gone, her faithful and beloved companion, the dog that he often teased her she loved more than him. 

Quickly he was up, moving out the door and ignoring the stiffness of his limbs, forcing them to carry him through the door that had been left ajar. The hall was painted red, a velvet scripture of death with limbs discarded like a child's toys and lumps of flesh that was so heavily braised it could never be discovered just who they belonged to. Skin melted out of metal armor, looking like dough that had risen far too high from it's pan and spilled over the edges. Alistair, a man who had seen some of the nastiest shit in all of not only Thedas but also the Fade, who could eat the moldiest cheeses known to man without the slightest of a gag reflex, found himself nearly vomiting. “Maker's breath”, he covered his face with his hand, trying to not breathe in the charred scent of flesh. How had he not heard these man screams? Surely their deaths had not been as silent one. “Dream?!” He called for the loyal dog, a pitiful whimper coming from behind the door of what served as Wynne's room, a guest chamber that was in close proximity to Aurora's. He ran to it, careful not to step on anything and trying to open the door. When it would not open, he slammed the full force of his body mass against it and sent the whole thing tumbling to the floor. Both Wynne and the hound where in the corner, Dream's large head nestled into the elderly woman's lap and looking up at Alistair with his large and soft brown eyes. 

Wynne showed no signs of consciousness, her head tilted back and eyes shut, chest stuck in place without the slightest motion of breath. Alistair knelt to her, “Wynne?” Panic rose thicker than bile in the pits of his belly, fear clutching him in such a grasp he felt close to exploding. When she did not respond he rose a shaking hand, willing himself to hold it together and pressed a finger to her wrist. Again and again he tried, a desperate attempt at finding any sign of life, any source of anything but death. In the end though there was nothing, her body was an empty shell, no inhabitant to be found no matter how hard he fought. Tentatively, he placed his arms under her knees and shoulders and lifted her to the bed, placing her lifeless form atop the thick embroider of blankets. His mind fought his internal strength to mourn the closest thing he knew to a Mother, the one who counseled him kindly in his times of need and lectured him when he needed it, the woman he thought for sure would be like that of a grandmother to his future child. 

He had to keep looking though, had to scour every inch of the castle for any sign of life, any indication that he was not the only one to survive the second massacre of Castle Cousland. Gently he patted Dream's head, the hound looking so sad Alistair was sure the animal would begin to cry. A loud noise brought him standing in defense mode, even though had not grabbed anything when he had left the room he shared with Aurora. So he grabbed a vase atop the guest room's vanity, smashing it against the wall and pointing the sharp edge towards the door. 

Instead being met eye to eye with a blood mage, or an abomination, he was instead greeted with the site of Zevran who looked just as panicked as he was. “Alistair!” The elf dropped the daggers in his hands, running to the tall man and hugging him tightly. It took Alistair a moment to render this, before he dropped any jealousy he once had over the elf and hugged him tightly back. After they released, Zevran was the first to speak, “I swear to the Maker, I was awake one moment then the next I was waking up on the floor. I was in the bell tower, perched and watching for anything unusual, I thought I was ready for anything that came our way.” Regret heavily laced his voice, internal pain crossing his face as his eyebrows furrowed. He caught site of Wynne then, the mage motionless and pale atop her bed.

“She can't be....” His voice trailed on, unwilling to continue as he met the King's eyes. Alistair looked away, “I don't know what happened, Dream was with her, locked in her chambers and Wynne was just..gone. I'm certain she must have tried fighting something, she was already drained from placing protection spells everywhere...I can't imagine using any further magic would have gone well. We can't let her death over take us yet though. You take dream and look Fergus and anyone else who's still alive, I have to find Aurora.”

Zevran seemed keen on rejecting, not liking being thrown onto the opposite search team, “Fine.”


	25. Flat Daggers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will do a better spell check later <3.

Alistair had changed into his armor, something that felt unusual and hard atop his flesh after weeks of cotton shirts and comfortable breeches. A comforting heaviness at his hip was his sword, his most favorite, one that he had bonded with over months of bonding. Grasped in his other hand was his shield, strong and firm enough to knock the consciousness straight out of anyone who dared to get in his way. After he and Zevran parted ways he had immediately dressed for a battle, checking every exit and entrance way of Cousland Castle until he found what he was looking for just outside the doors that lead to the castle's garden; the small footprints of his beloved, a pathway that seemed to stretch on endlessly before him. The snow had stopped the night before, the very last night he set eyes on her before falling into slumber and failing his eternal promise to protect both her and their child, the infant she swore was to be their daughter. After their departure, when he had forced her to leave his life with an intense feeling of hurt that fueled a false hatred, he had dropped every promise had every made of keeping her safe. After discovering her once more though, he wore to the Maker, and most importantly, her that he would never let her or their baby be harmed. He felt as if he had failed though, and even with only his two hour long knowledge of her departure from the safety of her homes and his arms it haunted him deeply. 

After initially telling Zevran to take Dream, he had finally been convinced to do the opposite and instead take the hound with him. His initial worry was that something would happen to the hound, Aurora's first baby, but in the end it was what he had to do. He could track Aurora by her scent, as where Alistair only could by his footprints, so they set out. Perched a top a horse, he rode to the left of the footprints with Dream on the right side, constantly following with his nose. They went like this for two miles, in wide open space before coming to a forest of thickly grown pine trees. Still, the footsteps continued and various branches seemed bent, turned away and broken. 

He searched them thoroughly, for any sign of his lover's presence besides the prints of her feet and finally found what he was looking for; a piece of silken fabric, the same color as her nightgown and stuck onto a sharp branch. Rubbing it between his fingers he mounted his horse once more, looking at Dream who tilted his head and whimpered at the site of his Mistress's torn clothing. “We'll find her.” Alistair spoke his words with confidence, besides his doubts, because he would not rest until they did. 

For several hundred more feet the footprints continued, before they turned into three different pairs, the other two pairs that did not belong to her large and leaving bits of grit and blood in the other wise clean and yet to be touched snow. The blood sent anger throw his veins, a feeling that was so deep it kept his fearful anxiety at bay. The multiple pairs of prints ended abruptly, like the owners had simply floated into the sky. 

The magic was thick in the air, to such a degree that Alistair knew spells had been recently applied to the surrounding area. It was a different type of magic though, bearing a coldness that was different than the kind the weather simply provided. It penetrated his armor, sending bumps rising along his arms and the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. It was a taint similar to that of the darkspawn, corrupted and twisted into something that was poisonous to everything around it. On instinct he looked to a tree just a few feet away from the last footprints, snapping the branch in two and tearing the tangling half off to expose the inner layer of wood. It was being eaten from the inside out, rotting faster than a darkspawn corpse in the midst of a blistering summer day. Throwing it aside he felt his temples tense up, worry and furry all coming together in one mixing pot and making him feel sick to his stomach. Where had they taken his Aurora?

….  
After she felt someone grab her wrists she had abruptly blacked out, unsure of her body had followed the motion of her mind or not. As she slowly parted the water ways of consciousness, she could hear the heater argument of two men, one of which seemed to be carrying her. His deep voice vibrated deeply from within his chest and felt like soft tapping motions against her arm. Knowing better than to give them any knowledge to them that she had awoken, she kept her eyes shut in what she could only hope looked natural. Unable to hold back testing her control over her body though, she slowly moved her toes, praying to the Maker that the movement was hidden beneath her draping nightgown. When her body responded, she felt a relief that nearly made her gasp out had she not been so mentally stern about keeping control over herself. Several moments passed and the two men gave no indication that they had any idea she had awoken, and so she listened, a spy with no eyes.

Samson, the brother holding the seemingly sleeping Aurora, spoke once more in his gruff and irritated tone, “How could you not think to put a lightness spell on her, Samuel? There was miles worth of footprints, Samuel. How could you be so bloody idiotic? And did you not think applying a warmth spell to her would be, I don't fucking know, maybe a tad bit important? Her fingers and toes were nearly lost by frostbite!”

“I told you I was sorry. I managed to kill off every inhabitant in the castle without them making a sound, even when that healer kept hitting me with protection spells. There is not a soul left to follow us, so why do the footprints matter?”

“Because I am highly doubtful you managed to kill off every individual in the castle, especially with   
all the force fields I had to break through in the first place. You're not exactly very throughout, you never have been. Everything's always been messy and edged in clues of who did it. Father likes a clean cut, nothing left behind, and you know this.”

“Yet you didn't turn back and make sure I did what was supposed to be your job right, you grabbed the girl and were off.”

Samson grunted in response, not wanting to admit that breaking through the healer mage's spells had nearly drained him completely, “Let us just pray that no one follows the leftovers we managed to create.” With that the conversation was cut off, Samuel knowing that his elder brother would refuse any further speaking of their current, conversation even he attempted to create any further sparks of it. 

Shifting his arms, Samson placed Aurora into his brothers arms, “Place her on the cot in the room we prepared and I will speak with Father. I'm not how he plans on the delivery of the child quite yet.”

Aurora felt her blood run cold. The delivery of her child? Even with the constant aches of contractions, signs of labor were muter than a deaf cow and the only other form of childbirth usually resulted in death. Would they kill her to get her child sooner? Or would they wait until she was laboring? Both thoughts made her feel sick, the first more so than the other. A door closed behind her and the man she was now knew as Samuel, and she was aware of her body being placed onto something that held a slight softness to it. 

Softly, like he was afraid she would awake, Samuel tucked a piece of strand hair behind her ear, “I can't really blame Father for his interest in you. A gorgeous woman who carries children teeming with magic, you're of a greater use to us than you know.” He spoke his words in a hushed tone, and then he was up, gone with the door closed behind him. Aurora slowly opened her eyes, making sure of her presence being the only one before glaring daggers at the door. His finger touching her was enough to make her almost punch him in the face. “Bastard”, it was a mummer, easily lost in the space of the cell.   
One thing the two brothers failed to do was search her once they had her, as if she was a helpless and petite doll and not a rogue with years of training and various dead creatures under her belt. Sitting up she slid her dress up until it was over her upper thigh, a dagger secured in a sheath. It was placed at the front center, enough so that Samson had not felt it while carrying her. It was a thin blade, although incredibly sharp, to the point that it seemed almost flat against her skin. She ran her fingers over its handle, her mind already devising a plan of freedom for her and the unborn she carried.


End file.
